Roses Of Picardy
by Eboyv
Summary: AU When Elizabeth falls for Alec, a wealthy Scotsman with a dark temper, she thought she found true love. But everything is questioned when an American soldier baring bad news enters her life. Fem!EnglandXScotland, Fem!EnglandXAmerica. Rated M. Continue on your own accord.
1. The Man with Auburn Hair

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and possible rape._

* * *

**_Carlisle, UK - 1917_**

Her legs would not move. Burried within the cold mud, she desperately tugged at her leg which was now sinking even further into the ground. Of all the places to be stuck, why did she have to be stuck in the middle of an eerie forest in a country she was new to? Even with her specs splattered in soil she continued clawing at her leg, and it was only when she heard the sucking of horse hooves galloping in the soaked terrain did she hault. _If someone caught me on their land they could shoot me, or worse! _Elizabeth thought frantically. Even as her foot sunk deeper, she dare not move, not allow the person to know she was there. Not even a single breath would emmit from her dried lips. Nevertheless, the hooves came to a hault a few feet away. The fog obscuring her vision further, giving just a translucent, blue shadow moving about.

"Hello?" A voice sounded through the empty woods, a slight echo wringing off its pitch. She couldn't make out whether the voice was angry or concerned through the thick accent it held. A twig snapped and she flinched back, her hand unnoticably tightening around her lodged ankle. And while her mind battled to determined whether to answer, the shadow was slowly becoming clearer through the fog as it approached, a gun spotted in the man's left hand. Well that answered her question. But she did not need to answer, in fact, she would be unable to from the pure fear and awe of the man. His hair was short and auburned, his eyes green as the pastures that surrounded them. He was lean, but not at all unmuscular and weak-like, for Elizabeth could make out through the white sleeves muscles that toned his arms.

She just stared. Petrified in fear of the man and any thought one could hold to a foreign girl, helpless and lost in this unfurmiliar countryside. But he made no move towards her, just stared, a gaze that could only be registered and unimpressed filling the tension with its piercing green. "I thought I heard movement... are you injured?" He asked without any concern. Elizabeth just looked at him wide-eyed. She tried to answer, she really did, but when her mouth opened no words came out.

"No, I don't think so." She finally said, unable to hold eye contact any longer as she glanced down.

"Then why are you just sitting in the mud?"

There was a long silence as she rubbed her arm in embarassment, "I'm stuck." the words came out, the silence returning thick with tension. This caused the man to tilt his head in confusion and just a little amusement. The grin that followed sent shivers down her spine, _oh god... I'm so helpless. No one would be able to hear me scream if he..._

A hand appeared in front of her, open and welcoming. She looked up at him in confusion, but only found an amused gaze on her, causing her to ponder how a man could smile with a frown on his face. "Take my hand. I'll help you up." He stated, squatting in the mud and awaiting the young woman to take his hand. "Well? C'mon now, I don't have all day you know." He urged with his sharp brogue. Taking his hand, he gently pulled her forwards, causing her to yell out suddenly. A sharp pain pierced her ankle and she fell back down cupping her embedded joint. She could feel the man's gaze on her, and it was enough to keep the tears from falling.

"M-my ankle.."

He was already two steps ahead of her though, wrapping his hands around the injured join and digging laboured fingers into the mud to free her foot. Finding it difficult to do so he glanced at her. "You're going to have to take off your shoe. It's really stuck in there." Raising himself, his trousers now covered in mudd, he ran his hand around her waist, her other hand being placed around his neck. The blush it earned was all too apparent for Elizabeth and she nodded, looking down at her ankle and hiding said blush. Oh so slowly, the undone straps of her black shoes inched away from the injured foot and oh so daintily was it freed from the confinements of the mud. But as soon as she earned this freedom, it backfired with a loss of balance and she fell backwards towards the mud, only to be caught by the man. She gazed up at him with a loss of words, he seemed to do that to her. His eyes oh so peculiarly bright, his freckled face oddly handsom even with mud splattered on his skin and that ever ceasing frown.

But he took no notice to the blush nor the sudden observing of his features, just simply helped her to her feet, brushed them both off and began towards his horse. Surprised, Elizabeth called after him "Wait! Sir! You're just going to leave me out here?"

"I apologize, miss, but I expect you to be on your way. You _are _on my land after all." He glanced back, unamused and a little annoyed at her question. Finding herself following him, she stopped mid-stride in shock.

"I-I'm new to these parts, sir. I don't have any idea where I am or where to go. My ankle is injured and... I have nothing." He stared at her for a long while, pondering this information. But just as quickly as the quizacle face appeared, it dissentegrated into the fog as he climbed onto his horse's saddle, the beast snorting in acknowledgement. She ran forward crying out.

"Sir! Please, I hate to burden you, but I need help! Ple-"

"Get on my horse." He said simply. He had been ignoring her frantic cries the whole time and was now offering a hand. Dumbfounded, she had no clue how to react, so she carefully took his hand and was helped upon the animal, uncomfortably positioning herself behind the saddle. "Hold on." He stated before digging his heal into the horse and being rewarded with a sudden gallop. She clung tightly to the strange man, blushing as she was forced to press against him to hold on at the fast pace. Being as Elizabeth had never ridden a horse before, the experience was all but joyful.

As soon as they broke from the trees, the fog seemed to leave them and ahead was a series of sun-pattered pastures, all richly green and barely any trees around. In the distance, a large, grey, stone mansion could be seen. Just a spec on the horizon against a curtain of grey sky. The moment was everlasting, the smell of the stranger adding to the exhileration of the feelings that burned inside her; the scents of fresh soil and horses with coffee and rum. It was soothing and Elizabeth couldn't help but feel moved by the man's generosity towards her misfortune.

By the time they had weaved their way through the country side and approached the manor, a series of things gathered her interest. The largest of these things being the massive manor fit for the Queen of England, the architecture old and entwined with rose vines and soggy stone. Moss grew on the granite as well as soot and dirt from the two chimneys that took perch at each end of the mansion. It was a sight to behold for the woman that had come from nothing, and as she was helped off the horse by the auburn-haired man, the second thing that she found interesting came into view. Five servents were lined up at the front of the manor, one quickly taking hold of the horse's reins and leading the creature away while the other three greeted her rescuer with forced smiles. Although Elizabeth found the peculiar, she just stuck near the man's side.

"Hellen. Rochal. Take this woman into the living room and tend to whatever she needs. If you need me, I'll be in my studies." And just like that, she was left with the servants, staring after the man who now had disapeared into the mansion. Her dazed stare was quickly replaced with greetings to the two servants. A thick woman gently took her hand with a kind smile while a short boy who she assumed was named Rochal stood at Hellen's side.

"Hello Miss. Right, let's get you inside, shall we?" She said cheerily and with a brogue so thick that Elizabeth strained to hear her words.

The small boy beside the woman smiled and added, "Do you need anything miss? Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea, please." She answered a bit awkwardly. This kind of service was new to her, and she found it quite embarassing that she had trouble functioning proper etiquate. As Hellen began to lead her into the house, Elizabeth noticably favored her right leg and with a concerned gaze, Hellen gazed up at her.

"You alright, miss? What wrong with your ankle?"

"Oh. Yes, well. I'm not rightly sure." She chuckled, blushing in embarassment. Why was she being so foolish today? Hellen's gaze softened and she shouted back towards the remaining servant, the one already returning from putting the horse in the stables, "Orkney! Shelty! Get yer arses to the pantry and grab this miss some wraps, would ya'?" The sudden hard, demanding tone Hellen had shocked Elizabeth and she just blinked at how they took it so normally. The woman's voice was so vicious... was that really how she sounded behind her services? The woman named Shelty and the older man named Orkney stopped immediately what they were doing and with a quaint nod, rushed into the house.

Still not quite sure what just happened, Hellen oh so carefully guided her into the mansion with caution of her injured foot. More and more, she was put in awe at the size and beauty of the mansion. The walls were coated in beautiful creme paper, stained wood lining the living room walls. A chandelier hung proudly from the cieling with candles lighting each small end that was surrounded in a polished glass bulb. As she was guided onto the sofa, her hand ran through the velvet cloth, taking pleasure in how detailed the carvings in the table legs were. Maybe she was just a fan of architecture, or maybe it was just a stunning job, either way, her breath had left her.

"My, my. Look at those tattered clothes. You can't rightly where that for the masters now, can you? Rochal, get the miss some clothes. I'm sure the old mistress wouldn't mind, god bless the woman's soul." Hellen ordered to the small boy. He just nodded with a blush and hurried off towards the twin staircase varnished in mahogany. Hellen smiled sweetly down at Elizabeth, despite the fact that now she seemed terrifying with that loud, dominating voice of hers. "Well look at you! You are an angel if I ever saw one, such a pretty thing. What're you doing out here?"

"Um.. well..." Truthfully, she had been asking herself this for days without an answer, "... I came from London, Miss Hellen. But, my past is rather horrible and if you do forgive me, I'd rather not share such memories." Hellen just smiled and nodded in understanding, brushing her ragged skirt out from under her to sit on the table.

"Do not worry, miss. You are safe amongst us. Whatever past you are trying to escape, we will do the best to aid you with. However.." Elizabeth was surprised to find the maid's face darkening. Such a strong woman being diminished to a fragile thing like this.. it was more than enough to send shivers down her spine, "I must warn you to be careful around the master, miss. He is not right in the head now a days... and I'm afraid of the worst."

"What do you mean?" She asked, suddenly finding herself concerned for her rescuer.

"Indeed. What do you mean, Ms. Hellen?" A voice called out from the doorway with an all-too furmiliar accent. The man it belonged to had a similar face to her rescuer, but his hair was longer and brown-hued, with a shaggy volume to it and lighter green eyes. A glass of liquor sat in his hand as he stood there, and she found herself becoming unsteady around a figure that gave off so much power... especially to a woman like Hellen, who's face had now pailed.

"N-nothing, Master Angus. My apologies." She stuttered.

"It is quite alright, Ms. Hellen. Might I ask who this pretty little lass is?" He said, approaching them with a look of interest in Elizabeth, who's face was turning redder by the minute. Before the confused maid could speak, she stated.

"Elizabeth, sir."

"Elizabeth? What a beautiful name. Do you have a last name, miss?" She bit her lip and looked down.

"Not anymore, sir."

"I see. You do not have to tell me if you do not want to. And please, call me Angus." Giving a kind smile he raised his glass towards her and took a drink.

"Alright, Angus." She said with a smile in return, "... so, you are the master of this house?" This rewarded a crooked grin from Angus, all too similar to the auburn gentleman she had met just a few hours ago.

"One of four, yes."

"Four?"

"Yes. This mansion was inherited by my family. My brothers and I are responsible for it, and my little brother will inherit it when we pass." She contemplated this for a while, cocking her head to the side.

"You have five brothers? It must be difficult with competition in the family.." Just as Rochal came into the room with a long, blue dress, they were startled to hear a loud, booming laugh emmit from Angus' mouth, almost spitting his liquor.

"You have no idea, lassy." Taking another sip he registered the dress in Rochal's hands, smiled, and started towards what looked like the kitchen. "Alright, I'll leave you to your lady business. I'll have you know though, if you ever need anything, you can always ask help from me and Gavan."

"Is Gavan the name of the auburn haired man?" Without a thought the words slipped out and the reaction of a darkened face concerned her.

"Um. No, lassy. That would be my brother, Alec."

"Oh. Should I not ask him for help, Sir Angus?" She could barely make out his eyes as his hair had fallen over them. Before walking into the kitchen, the hop in his step dissapearing, he said..

"I'd suggest not going near Alec, miss Elizabeth. The man needs his rest."

Elizabeth sat there. Confused, lost, and oh so curious as to why everyone seemed so determined to stay away from Alec. Was he really not that right in the head? He did save her after all, so surely he couldn't be that bad. But if such a cheery man as Angus and such a strong, warm-hearted woman as Hellen would be cautious of him... shouldn't she be as well? She was so caught in these thoughts that she didn't even notice Hellen raising her from the sofa and guiding her towards the bathroom, Rochal following close behind, trying not to drag the dress on the ground. "Right. Here you go, miss. Try this on." Suddenly she was handed the blue dress and for a second, her concerned dissapeared at the shock of how elegant the cloth was. It was soft in her hand, probably some type of silk. She didn't feel right wearing such beautiful garments, especially with how filthy she was from her days of walking along the English country side, her current garments tattered and soiled. Slipping off her remaining shoe and her dress, she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her body was so lean... when was the last time she had eaten something? With no money in her pockets, she was never able to afford a healthy meal, so now her ribs were too apparent for a healthy woman and her legs and arms seemed only skin and bones. It was a horrific sight, but it seemed as she slipped on the dress, it covered all the damaged parts behind the beautiful sheets of cloth and it hung around her neck so elegantly that Elizabeth couldn't help but think of herself fit to see the Queen.

When the door opened, Rochal was standing there, a bright smile on his face and a small dog wagging its tail at his side. With a quick glanced towards the sudden canine, she was guided back into the living room and then greeted by two other servants, one fiddeling with the radio. Shelty, a young, pretty woman took her gently by the arm and placed her on the table where she gently took her foot in her hand. While a wince was apparent on her face, Hellen continued to praise Elizabeth's strength as Shelty massaged the foot, trying to find where the problem was. Orkney, who paused from flipping through the stations took a wet cloth and slowly ran the water over her battered, blistered feet, cleansing her pale skin of cold mud and revealing a blue-black bruise around her ankle. The young maid grimaced at the sight, taking hold of the cloth and padding the area around it. With gentle, experience hands, Shelty wrapped her foot in soft bandages, not notice Orkney returning to fiddling with the radio.

"Oi! Orkney, would you stop that! You know how Alec likes his peace and quiet."

"Oh come on, Ms. Hellen! We have a guest, we might as well show some courtassy." Orkney pleaded.

"I'll show you some courtasy right up your-" Suddenly Hellen paused as a sliver of music filtered through the radio. As Orkney quickly searched for the sound again, he ran across the station and with steady fingers, elimenated all static from the music.

_She is watching by the poplars  
Colinette with the sea blue eyes  
She is watching and longing and waiting  
Where the long white roadway lies  
And a song stirs in the silence  
As the wind in the boughs above  
She listens and starts and trembles  
'Tis the first little song of love_

Shelty smiled widely, giving a laugh as Orkney kicked up in the air with excitement and pride, taking Shelty's hand in his own for a dance. Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at their joy, finding the music soothing as much as the tone was sad. Even though they played the song often on the radio, being as it was a war song to give pride to the UK, Elizabeth enjoyed any sound of music. She never hadn't heard music in such a long time, and even with such a sad and lethargic song as this, it made her feel happy and hopeful. And obviously, the slow dancing servants found it just as happy, for even Hellen was leaning against the sofa and grinning widely as Rockal took the dog's front paws and began dancing with it.

As Elizabeth smiled at the scene, a man had appeared in the door way. His hair was a mess, his eyes swollen from liquor and his gaze agrivated and exhausted as he stared at the dancing servants. As he was about to yell at them for not doing their work, he paused spotting a beautiful young woman with long, blond hair on the sofa. She wore his mother's dress like a goddess and he felt his heart thump in his chest. That smile she wore gave him goose bumps and though his spite did not fade for the sudden music and dancing, he just stood in the shadows, not wanting to interrupt the woman's joy, auburn hair shielding his eyes.

_Roses are shining in Picardy  
In the hush of the silver dew  
Roses are flowering in Picardy  
But there's never a rose like you  
And the roses will die with the summer time  
And our roads may be far apart  
But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy  
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart._

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_To Be Continued..._

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_Sorry if the names confused you. This is actually my first fanfiction so I apologize if it was bad. Please review! I'd like to hear what you think!_

**_Notes:_**

_Elizabeth: Fem England_

_Alec: Scotland_

_Angus: Ireland_

_Gavan: Wales_

_Hellen: Hebrides_

_Rochal: Rockall_

_Shelty: Shetland Islands_

_Orkney: Orkney Islands_

_Mother: Britannia_

**_Song: _**

_(Youtube)/watch?v=GZ87ICmR-2k_


	2. Icelanders and Dogs

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and possible rape._

* * *

Sheets of fine cloth wove between her fingers, the smell of the morning and old wood seeping into her nose as she breathed in. The light melted into her face and the smile that rose was one of pure comfort and bliss. When her green eyes flicked open, she found herself in a room unfamiliar to her. The window to her left glowed yellow with the vague chirping of birds and the rare, Scottish sun that found its way through the clouds and into the morning. She was in a large bed, the sheets soft and well cared for as well as the pillows probably fluffed three times a day.

As she raised herself from the comfortable bed that she oh so wanted to fall back into, her eyes diverted towards the open door as a recognizable face came into view. "Mr. Orkney?" She called out, causing the man to stop mid stride and smile kindly towards her, entering the room.

"Ah, top of the mornin' to you, Ms. Elizabeth. I pray you slept well?" Resting his hands behind his back he straightened himself to appear more professional.

"Very. Though, I don't even remember going to sleep I'm afraid.."

"That is understandable, Ms. Elizabeth. After all, you have come a very long way and must have been absolutely exhausted. It probably doesn't help either that our sofa is quite comfortable." He said with a bright laugh. It was then that Elizabeth decided she liked this man. He was older, but not middle aged by the slightest, his hair was dirty blonde and short while his cheeks were rosey and kind. And the smile he wore seemed to light up the room.

"I fell asleep on the couch? My, that is very unlady like at all!" She said, disgusted at her own actions, only earning another laugh from the servant who now was turning back towards the hallway.

"I'll get you a cup of tea, Ms. Elizabeth, hopefully that will wake you up." Suddenly, Orkney paused at the doorway, placing one of his hands on the old wooden frame. "... also, Ms. Elizabeth..."

"Yes, Mr. Orkney?" She studied the back of the man's head, questioning the sudden change in voice.

"... Master Alec has requested to see you. Once you find proper clothes in the dresser to your right, please meet him in his office." And with that, Orkney forced himself out of the room before she could see the look of worry on his face. But his tone of voice had not gone unnoticed. Why was everyone so damn scared of Mr. Alec? All he has been is nice to her, so he has given her no reason to have fear. And while she worried about these red flags, her heart beat faster at the thought of the man who rescued her. The handsome face, the gentle hands, the way he carried himself as if the whole German army couldn't defeat him. And yet.. he seemed translucent. As if he was about to stumble and fade away like a phantom in the night.

Only one thing was for certain, and that was that she was going to see him very soon. And this meeting she hoped would answer these questions that fumed her mind. As her heart seemed to skip a beat, she found herself already opening the dresser and finding a row of beautiful gowns fit for a princess. _Here I go..._

There was a vague knocking on the door, but through his concentration he didn't even notice the sound. Once again it knocked and suddenly he glanced upwards to see a very pail Hellen standing in the doorway, beside her a beautiful young woman with spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose and his mother's golden summer gown trailing down her body stood. Once Alec found himself staring, he cleared his throat and gestured for Hellen to leave them, which she did hesitantly. Then it was just the young woman and Alec in his studies. The birds chirped joyfully outside and the sound of leaves brushing together as the wind hit the trees didn't help in the moment. _Is that a blush on her face? _He thought, fascinated.

"Hello." The woman suddenly said, bringing him back into reality. As he leaned back on the table he smiled and replied..

"Hello."

Silence. She uncomfortably shifted her weight, trying to find something to say.

"... So... you asked to see me, Mr. Alec?" His heart fluttered at the stating of his name, he didn't remember giving it to her after all..

"Did I? Ah yes. So I did. How is your ankle?" He stammered nodding to the shoe that leaked bandages. She followed his gaze, realizing the question and smiling.

"Quite well, actually. Your servants do a fine job."

"Not as fine as I'd hope, but they are fit for service yes.."

"Oh. Well, they were very efficient."

"Good. I'm glad."

_Could this conversation go any more wrongly_, she thought, kneading her lip as she studied the man's gaze, finding his eyes locked on her face.

"Sir, i-"

"Alec."

"Alec... if I may ask. Why do you keep staring at me?" He didn't flinch, but just stayed there, staring at her, replying with a smile wiped clean off his face.

"Because you are very beautiful."

"P-pardon me?" Her eyes widened, the blush that grew on her face deepening in its red hue.

"Did I stutter? I said you are very beautiful. My mother's dress fits you well." Suddenly he moved off the table and towards her, making her back up in flattery. His hands, callased yet gentle ran under her long, blond braids, gazing over the pattern with those deep emerald eyes, "why do you keep this pretty hair in such a horrible fashion?" Had he just gone from flattering to insulting that quickly?

"Excuse me? I don't appreciate you insulting the way I do my hair, Sir-"

"Alec."

"Sir, Alec, whatever!" She blushed red and looked down, crossing her arms stubbornly, "You are making me very confused, Mr. Alec. One minute you are flirting with me and the next you are insulting me. Is that how you bring all the women to your bed?" Did she really just say the last part?

"Not often. But it seems to work enough." He said simply, a grin pricking the corners of his mouth, high on his cheeks. That damn grin of his kept knocking the breath out of her... and she needed that breath! Her eyes, staring wide up at him, she found no words to retort back. But she didn't need these words, he spoke for her, grabbing her hand gently and leading her out of the studies. "Come, take a walk with me, will you?"

The sun shined in her face, the roses that blossomed along the stone wall were blooming brightly in the sunlight. As they walked down the stone path, she couldn't help but glance around at the beauty of the garden they had found themselves in. It was so gorgeous, that Elizabeth couldn't help but feel like Eve in Eden, walking along side the handsom, auburn-haired man. "Do you like the garden?" A sudden voice traveled into her ears and she looked up towards Alec's curious face. With a bright smile and a nod, he stretched and grinned widely, "Yeahhh it was my brother's. But I made it ten times better."

"So you enjoy gardening, Mr. Alec?"

"Well.. I wouldn't exactly say that. I take pride in my garden, but I'm more of a farmer Miss... say... I never got your name."

"Elizabeth."

"What a beautiful name, just like the lass it belongs to." When he winked, a shiver traveled down her spine and she could feel that damn heat returning to her face.

"You certainly know how to make a lady blush..."

"It runs in the family. My mother was quite the temptress and I suppose it passed on to my brothers and I."

"Are you close to your mother, if you don't mind me asking? I've heard references to her a lot..." This caused him to blush lightly and he cackled looking down the pathway surrounded by moss-varnished love seats and statues of horses, they're proud faces frozen in stone.

"You could say that, yes. I'd say my brothers and I have found more reasons to fear her than be close to her. But in a way, yes, we love our mother as much as any son could."

"She must know how to manage her money to have such an incredible line of wealth!" Elizabeth beamed, gazing around and careful not to trip on a vine that snaked across the pathway.

"She screwed the bank over several times. We don't have the best relationship with them but it isn't because we are poor with our debts. Us Kirklands always pay our debts, but oh no, the reason they hate us is because we can con the bank out of their money with our sharp whits." He chuckled grinning in pride, causing her to chuckle in turn which cued him into continueing, "Thank god Gavan inherited our mother's skills at conning or we would probably be in the slums by now."

As soon as the words left his lips he bit them back and blinked down at Elizabeth with concern, "I'm... I'm sorry I.."

"Oh no! It's quite alright, Mr. Alec." She smiled up at him. "I didn't grow up in the slums. In fact, I grew up in middle class.. just... recently the war has claimed my family. It's just me now. And unfortunately, I am a woman. And it is difficult to land a supporting job on your own without a spouse."

"Well that shouldn't be too hard."

This caused her to laugh loudly, "Please, Mr. Alec. Your flattery is all too charming, but I have never found one suitor at my doorstep... probably because I spend my time with a nose in a book rather than in a kitchen or knitting."

"Hey, they don't know what they're missing. I love a woman who can read my children stories.. if I have any that is. I'm not even sure I would since I can't stand the little mongrals, but even so. If anyone were to cook, I'd prefer the job. My garden, my food. Simple as that." She burst out laughing at his joyful face.

"You'd prefer a woman's job, Mr. Alec?"

"Cooking is in no way a woman's job! It is an _art_!" Striking a fanciful pose, they both began laughing loudly, filling the emptiness with their glee. Suddenly, Alec's face fell into a frown, staring off towards a patch of cabbages on the western half of the garden. Following his gaze, Elizabeth spotted a rabbit moving about the vegetables. "Damn things.." He muttered, beginning to turn around. "I'll return shortly, I need to grab my gun." But before she could stop herself, her hands were around Alec's firm arm, and she noted the tensed muscles within the limb.

"N-no. Please. They aren't doing any harm. Don't kill them."

"Not doing any harm? Elizabeth, they are eating our food. We need that to support the family and pay taxes."

"There has to be another way though..."

Alec's face softened at her concerned expression. The tenderness of how she held his arm was all too comforting, and soon the anger that was beginning to build died and with a sigh he placed his hands on his hips and glared at the rabbits who were nosing their way through the garden. "And how would you suggest you get rid of them?"

"Well, I don't know... maybe.." Elizabeth's eyes brightened and she pushed the spectacles up her nose and grinned widely, "a dog!" She stated, hands on her hips in pride at the thought, referring back to the dog by Rochal's side.

"A dog?"

"Yes. A dog. It would chase off the rabbits and keep them from eating the garden."

"Dogs can kill rabbits too, you know.."

"Yes, but even so. There's more of a chance that they would just scare them off than catch them, wouldn't there?" Alec hesitated from argueing the point further, seeing the pride she held in her face, it warmed his heart to see the woman so happy compared to when he found her in the mud. Cold, shaking, scared... he never wanted to see her like that again.

"Alright then. You can come with me to get a dog from town, I'll be going there later today anyways."

With an expression of delight, she hugged him tightly around the waste, causing him to awkwardly flinch backwards but all the same wrap his arms around her back hesitantly. "Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Alec!" She beamed.

"Alec!" A shout suddenly ran out, just as Elizabeth found herself melting into the Alec's well-toned arms. The voice belonged to a small boy who was weaving between the statues towards them, a little stuffed dog in his right hand, a school uniform covered in mud, and a cap just moments away from flying off. As he bounded towards them, he leaped onto Alec who barely turned in enough time to stagger backwards and catch him, the boy's arms wrapping around his neck and giving him a big hug. "Alec! Alec your back!" He repeated, a huge smile on his face. It was then that Elizabeth noted the man who was leaning against a tall shrub, his gaze indifferent but a smile kind and generous upon his face. A face that was quite similar to the Kirkland brothers. _So this is Gavan. _

"I never left, Peter. I just was busy, that's all." Alec half stuttered half laughed, bewildered. Peter giggled, sitting on the grook of Alec's arm.

"You were in your office for so long! I thought you would never come out!" The young boy shouted with wide eyes and extravagant hand movements.

Before Alec could reply, he turned his attention to Gavan who was approaching them. Elizabeth noticed Alec took a step closer towards her, but paid it no mind, concentrating on the handsome features of Alec's brother. "Hello, Alec. It is good to see you." He said in an accent leaning more towards English.

"And you too, Gavan." Alec said with a small nod.

"So... who do I have the pleasure of meeting, this fine summer day?" Gavan smiled as Peter stared at her with big, bright blue eyes, blinking curiously at the strange new woman. His eyes weren't the only ones on her though, all of them were staring at her now, so with a short cough she stammered..

"E-Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Mr. Gavan." She said awkwardly, smiling towards the man, finding herself in a curtsy. Why did she just curtsy? The last time she curtsied was at her school when she was just a girl.

"It is an honor to meet you, Ms. Elizabeth." He was so calm. Collected. _Mature_. It was so odd compared to Angus and Alec who were so extravagent with their words even if they were as apathetic as one man could get. But something else peaked her interest... the man wasn't uncomfortable. Gavan hadn't once gave a double glance at her being near Alec, or even gave the slightest impression he was worried for her. It was not only refreshing... it deemed him her favorite of the Kirkland brothers.

"Please, the honor's all mine. I've been told a lot about you."

"Have you? I pray they are kind words, then." He said with a purpousfully uncomfortable laugh. She chuckled and then glanced at Peter who was now clammering to the ground from Alec's arms.

"Big Brother Gavan is the best brother in the whole wide world! No one can say any mean things about him or the Germans will take them away!"

"Peter!"

The boy blinked up at Gavan who's warning glare wasn't at all threatening, but more parental. They must spend a lot of time together seeing as how well they got along, and how close they seemed to be.

"I'm sorry, Brother. Sorry Alec. Strange lady."

"_Peter!_"

"Oh, it's quite alright. Really. He's very charming." She laughed loudly through the thick scolding of Gavan. Peter beamed up at her with interested eyes.

"Charming? Like a Prince?"

"Very much so. You are a little Prince Charming I do believe." The group shook with laughter and Peter shot his arms out, making a sound of a plane engine and sprinting off towards the exit of the garden. As their gaze followed the small boy, Gavan chuckled and began towards where he ran off to.

"It seems that Peter has once again begged my attention. I apologize for such a short introduction, miss. Shall I see you at dinner? _Both _of you?" Alec shifted uncomfortable, but even with that emphasized point, Gavan's kind features remained as pleasant as ever. Elizabeth just stood there, waiting for Alec to respond seeing as she found it rude to invite herself to a stranger's table, however it seemed they were waiting for her response... how awkward.

"U-Uh yes. Yes, sir."

Gavan giggled and strolled away calling out behind him, "Your formalities know no bounds, Ms. Elizabeth. Unfortunately. I am not a military officer, so please address me as Gavan, alright?" And there was the heat again. This was not invisible to Alec though, and while Elizabeth was completely oblivious of the fact, Alec was staring intently at her. The moves she made during the whole conversation were carefully evaluated by the man little to her knowledge. And it seemed that he was intent on observing every way his brothers acted towards her, too.

"Right. Well.. shall we go to town then, Ms. Elizabeth? If we don't leave soon, it'll get too dark to see on our way back." He said, pulling her attention away from his trailing brother.

"Oh... yes. Well.."

"What is the matter?" His head cocked to the side, eyes studying her pale, flawless face.

"... well... I've never ridden a horse before, Mr. Alec." She blushed deeply, gazing down at her feet feeling completely hopeless. Useless. Ashamed.

"You don't-? Well now I know the first thing you're going to learn on the Kirkland Manor, don't I? Come, you can share my saddle." He laughed loudly, parading away with an amused expression on his face. It was so different from the face he wore the day before, that apathetic, indifferent expression that made her sympathize for the man. And now, he was this boisterous, loud, laughing being full of life that she's seen in little to no people in the UK.

The ride was short and smooth, her hands calmly wrapped around Alec's waist, her cheek resting against his back that bounced every so often to the horse's gate. That smell of his.. she could spend hours just with the man's shir-_don't think this way Elizabeth. You know how ridiculous you're acting. Stop it now before it's too late. _The little angel on her left shoulder really could be annoying at times. And in some ways it was right. She'd been given too many red flags by the people closest to this man, warning that she should stay away. And yet, here she was, being drawn in by everything about him. His beautiful face, his boisterous personality, his rugged views of life, and everything in between. More and more she found herself being swept off her feet by Alec Kirkland, and even more was she falling in love with him.

Once they arrived to the nearest town, the cobblestone streets and white store walls were welcoming and oh so quaint against the average country side setting. Her eyes wandered to each man and woman who greeted her with a soft smile, and even those who didn't stop to greet her at all. It was all so interesting to her that she had barely even noticed that they had stopped the horse and hitched it to a nearby hitching post outside of a shop that read "Geir í búð". The letters of the titling were icelandic. Since the war began, she had made it her duty to learn all of the neighboring languages, or at least recognize them. And although she did not understand what the sign said, she still understood that indeed it was icelandic, and indeed it was an icelandic shop. Not that any of this mattered. When Alec pushed through the shop door, a welcoming tinkling sound of a bell greeted them, and the quaint town became even quainter. The shop was so kindly thought up, the painted walls full of bright colors and the seats looking so comfortable, and of course the small man in the center sweeping up dust. She had never experienced anything so delightfully tiny. "Alec? Is that really you?" The man said with an apathetic tone. Why everyone seemed to obtain this level of voice, she decided not to question. The man before them was very short, his hair long, covering most of his ears with a hue of blond so light, that against anything dark it would be considered silver. His gaze was bright blue, even if it was glazed in such a bored expression it still appeared kind.

"Geir. It is nice seeing you again."

"I wish I could say the same." The bite stunned Elizabeth, but she just stood near Alec.

"Hey now, don't be like that! You know you missed me."

"You were gone?"

Alec laughed through gritted teeth, biting back his words for the sake of Elizabeth standing beside him. "I'm joking." A sudden reply came from Geir. Yet his face showed no sense of humor which in itself made Elizabeth inwardly giggle. "It is refreshing to see you back to your normal self, Alec. What can I help you with?" _Back to his normal self?_

"Is your dog's pups still available for purchase?" Alec asked, ignoring the comment made previously. With a slight widening of his eyes in recognition, the man turned and strolled towards the back door, leading them to the back alley behind the shop. While it was rather dirty, the distance scenery of sheep-littered hills brightened the view. To the left against the wall, a sheep dog had wrapped itself in a nest-coiled blanket, three puppies waddling beside her, instantly seeing the three people and loping towards them. With pudgy, wagging tails and lawling tongues she gave a wide smile and knealed down to pick on them up. Its coat was brown with white speckles and a white blaze down its snout, peppered with brown fur. While it struggled in her grasp, it began losing its excited stamina and almost instantly fell limp in exhaustion in her arms. Before long it was just a sack of sleeping puppy as she chuckled, laying it in her lap.

Alec admired her for a bit, remarking under his breath how cute it was before smiling towards Geir. "Where can I purchase him?" The Icelander tilted his head in thought, then pointed towards the counter, painting the path for Alec towards the cash register. As he dealed with the purchase, Geir knealed down next to Elizabeth with what one could assume was a smile, though nothing could be certain of his pierced, pale lips.

"You are living with the Kirklands I hear."

"You did? Word travels fast here I suppose..." She said with a drawn expression of surprise, stroking the dreaming pup lovingly as it moistoned its lips with a soft pink tongue, "... and I'm not sure I'd call it 'living with them'. I was injured and Alec rescued me, and since I have nowhere to go, and they apparently have extra rooms, they are allowing me to stay until my ankle is healed." She smiled, causing Geir to suddenly glance at her bandaged ankle.

"Oh. I see." There was a long silence, Geir's hand massaging the dog's ear.

"So... are you from Iceland?" She says, interrupting the silence before it had time to grow.

"Yes, actually."

"Interesting. From what part if I might ask? You don't seem to have an accent"

"Vikk. My family lived on the coast until I moved here for business about 6 years ago. I've tried to elimenate the accent as much as possible, however it seems I slip up at times."

"I'm very impressed." She said with a sweet grin, "It's a beautiful shop you have, here. Adorable to say the least." The corners of his mouth began spreading and finally, Geir smiled. It was a small smile, but all the same was a smile. And it was a good one at that.

"Thank you. You are very kind. Which is why.." Suddenly the Icelander paused, his lips piercing and kneading in hesitation.

"... which is why?" She prodded. Dreading what he was about to say. But he just stared at her, letting out a long sigh before lowering his voice and saying..

"... which is why I can't see you being with Alec. Don't get me wrong.. he is a great man. But-"

"He's not right in the head?" She finished for him, anger venomizing her words. He gazed at her, shocked and confused, causing her to take in a long breath and release it with an inaudible series of grumbles, ".. you're not the first who's tried to chase me off."

"No. I'm not trying to chase you off. The rest of the Kirkland brothers are respectable, fine gentleman-"

"And Mr. Alec is not?"

"Hey, what's the problem out here?" A voice suddenly krept into the fuming atmesphere, causing the two to jump and the motion to awaken the poor dog. Geir paused, glancing from Alec to Elizabeth before his eyes widening in understanding and he raised himself from the ground.

"I see now. Nothing is the matter, Alec. I trust you paid the amount necessary?" Alec, still not satisfied and all too skepticle nodded, glancing between the two.

"You know me. A Kirkland always pays his debts. Now mind actually telling me what is the matter?"

Suddenly, the small blond had positioned himself to the side of Alec, pausing in the doorway and speaking without making eye contact, "In all due respect, Alec, it is _none _of your business." And just like that, the conversation ended. That single sharpness in his tone sent Elizabeth shivers down her spine as she raised herself, puppy already falling back into unconciousness as she was silently lead away by the shocked and confused Alec Kirkland. A certain Icelander refusing to gaze after them, little to their knowledge that a smirk was wide and prosperous on his lips.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

_Wow! People actually reviewed! I was not expecting that, yay! _

**_Notes:_**

_Geir: Iceland_

_Peter: Sealand_

_Gavan: Wales_

_Geir í búð - Geir's Boutique _


	3. A Revelation

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and possible rape._

* * *

**_Three Weeks Later..._**

It was a long while that the sun had heated the countryside and bathed it in a pool of warmth. That contradiction to the early fall air had dissentegrated into the greenery. The clouds, as if they were ashamed of raising their grey curtains settled back into their places on the English stage. And while Elizabeth stood there, a water-soaked sponge painting her porceline skin wet, she missed the rays of sunlight that had filtered through the windows and dappled the wooden flooring. Hellen just knealed beside her, tracing her form with the sponge and cleaning the young woman from head to toe. As much as Elizabeth offered to bathe her own person, Hellen threw the idea out the window before she could even argue. As much as the large woman was motherly, she was rutheless and pushy... the perfect hand maid.

"How is that ankle of yours, Miss Elizabeth?" She asked as she focused on scraping a caked piece of dirt from the other day's riding lesson off her thigh. Elizabeth did not respond though. Her ankle was very well, very healed... and very much a factor she feared. Although when she first started out in the Kirkland household, pictures of family roosting on the walls and old dresses that smelt of moth balls and yet at the same time was welcoming... she had no fear. She did not think that she would be reluctant to leave the household. Sure, it was a homey environment, the Kirkland brothers always offering to help her, and the maids secretly playing music while Alec hid away in his study chambers. But she'd been in this situation before, about seven times to be exact... but she had never had trouble leaving her shelter. And it was all because of a certain auburn-haired man.

_"No Elizabeth, keep your head up and back straight. That's it! You're a natural." _His voice was clear in her mind from the day before. A rope was tied around the horse's muzzle, its muscles rippling as it pranced in a circle beneath her clumsy posture. Not only was it bruising and left her achy, but she had performed such a daring stunt as riding a horse in a dress and two-inch heel boots that Gavan had purchased for her... even if they were horrible to ride in. And all she could think of in that memory, besides the beautiful animal that aided her... was the even more beautiful man that taught her. He just smiled, a cigar roosted on the corner of his mouth, his green eyes slits from the cheshire grin that adorned his near flawless features. She even remembered the little crows feet that fanned from the corners of each eye. He had worn his usual white shirt, long sleeves rolled up to the crease of his elbows, and simple, leather suspenders that hung tight pants to his hips. God those hips... not even the good lord himself could knock them down. Not even the Germans or the Ottomons. None of them could knock Alec Kirkland down.

"Ms. Elizabeth?" A voice suddenly caught her by surprise as she could feel the woman's hand lingering on her feet. "you've not answered my question, lass."

"O-oh... sorry, Ms. Hellen." She said with a slight blush of embarassment. "It's... it's well healed."

"Good. I'm glad." The bathroom became quiet, the swishing of water and lucid droplets that streamed down her skin the only noise that broke such silence. And it was then that Hellen became either too tired or too bored to keep down her curiosity, "... so will you be staying with us, Ms. Elizabeth? Or do you plan on leaving to a different home?" The woman's puffed, wrinkly eyes focused on Elizabeth's body.

"I.. I don't know. I couldn't possibly burden you any longer..."

"Oh _please _deary, you've been nothing but help! I've never met a woman as young and pretty as you to help a poor ole' wench like me out with the cleaning. You're a guest here and yet you work like a maid."

Elizabeth beamed at this and smiled. "What's the difference? If we can help eachother, the work gets done faster."

"A smart woman, you are, lass. And that intelligence may rightly get you in trouble one of these days." The harty woman chuckled, standing up and wringing out the sponge. She studied Elizabeth's face for a long while, piercing her lips in thought, fighting against opinions that barked at her. "... Ms. Elizabeth.. you know it's been a good long three weeks since you stayed here..." She looked up curiously as to wear this was leading, "... and I'll tell you right now, lass... I've never seen Mr. Alec happier."

In that instant, in that single comment, Elizabeth's face brightened the room to an almost blinding radiance. Her cheeks reddened as she glanced towards the ground, her naked body reflecting the silver light like a marble statue. Hellen smiled at the woman's sudden happiness. "... you love him... don't you, Ms. Elizabeth?"

The smile dropped. Her eyes wide as they gazed suddenly up at the smiling Hellen. After all the horrible things that the household had clued in on Mr. Alec... to have the lead woman beaming down at her with such pride. It was not only confusing... but it peaked her curiosity ten fold.

"Well... maybe... I-I do find a sort of _fancy_ for the man..." She smiled faintly, amazed that admitted to the tender thought. Hellen smiled at this, raking her eyes down Elizabeth's body once more before guiding her to the wardrobe of old, slightly moth-tarnished dresses. What else could she have said? Feelings were deffinitely there for the man... especially through all of his kindness. But... it's just so confusing that one of the man people who had emphasized the warning of Alec Kirkland to seemingly be proud of her admittance in liking him. No. Not liking him... _loving _him. But as she thought more and more of this, vague shouting voices wafted into her ears. The voices were so strained that she could even pick up the cracking of one of the men's vocals.

"Oh no.." Hellen mumbled, gazing concerningly towards the doorway. But soon those eyes were following Elizabeth who, dress raised to her shins, had now disappeared out the doorway in search of the argueing men, despite the old maid's pleads. It wasn't a long travel down the large corridor that shadows could be seen moving around in the light that radiated underneath the door, and shouts echoeing from the engraved wood.

"Angus, don't you dare tell me I am being preposterous!"

"I very well will tell you you are being preposterous! One minute you're talking about Arthur as if he's lower than that damn dog you bought, and now you're denying the truth that so blatently stares you in the face?"

"He is still my brother. He is still _your _brother. What are we if we do not have our faith!"

"We are _human. _We are men that know better than to believe in something that will only crush us along the road."

A long silence followed, a creaking from weight on a desk could be heard oh so vaguely.

"... He's not dead." A voice finally claimed.

"Alec..."

"He's not dead." Alec repeated, determined, "If he was dead, they'd send a man to deliver the news."

"Not if he went missing in action. Not if he was killed by those gas weapons the Germans have. Those places are tainted for weeks, sometimes months on end before a single soldier can even step in to total the body count."

"Angus. I am warning you. Quiet yourself now before I-"

"Before you what?" Angus asked, a straining on his voice, "... Look. You're right. A brother should not assume. But even so, in that one chance that God has claimed him... we need to settle the consequences." Alec did not reply, just a simple creaking of the desk sufficed. But the silence that followed was long and unbarable. She hear her own breathing as her ear was pressed against the door. No sound emitted. Nothing. Not even the creaks of the desk that one of the brothers had apparently roosted himself on.

"Alec.. what are you planning with this girl?" Elizabeth's blood turned cold as she strained to listen to every word.

"W-What does that have to do with anything?"

"With the current situation; none. But your actions are making me worried. How close are you willing to get with this girl?"

"This is none of your concer-!" The screeching of a chair across the wood made her clench her ears. The creak turned into a crashing noise and glass shattering on the ground. Grunts quickly took its place as it seemed there was a struggle between the two brothers.

"Alec... you hurt Elizabeth and I will slit your throat with our own father's sword." Angus growled. Gasping could be heard from within the depths of the room.

"I would never do anything to hurt Elizabeth!" Alec gasped.

"Oh, is that what your rum told you to say! Or maybe the ten scotches you take up to bed with you."

"I have had no drinks since Elizabeth decided to stay here... I told you, Angus... Elizabeth is like no other." The woman's cheeks flushed red. "I would die before I'd hurt her." The struggling ceased as she heard foot steps on the floor board.

"... You know I will always be weary with you around her. Given what happened in the past two years.."

"Those were mistakes. Botcheries. I was a fool and I recieve a fool's welcome at every town in the country... I will not make those mistakes again."

"I'm afraid you have little choice if the right moments were to align." Angus warned. A long sigh exasperated from the room, the steady sound of breathing filtering into Elizabeth's curious ears. She was aching to hear more when suddenly, she didn't want to hear anything else at all, "... I want you to stop this now. Stop associating with Elizabeth, stop feeling this way about her... stop doing all of it."

"Wh-wha..! You can't say that!"

"I can and I am. It is the utmost importance that the Kirklands keep their names known for good. If that girl is harmed or dies because of one of your petty mistakes... not only will you be removed from this family, but this family will find it very difficult to continue our comfortable life." Angus said it with such a grave quietness that she felt her face pale and her limbs go week. When the steady rush of footsteps approached the door she had to swing out of the way to avoid being slammed into. Her feet tripped on the dress and the tearing of cloth filled the hallway as well as a shout of alarm. A hand wrapped around her forearm softly... protectively. And as soon as she looked up at him, his auburn hair and dazzling green eyes... she couldn't keep it in any longer.

Her eyes became teary as a look of determination washed over Alec's features like a flood. Instantly he said, "Elizabeth.. what ar- oh forget it. Come on, join me into town will you?" She didn't exactly have a choice though. Alec's strength over powered her as he rushed through the house, the faint shouting couldn't even be heard as her eyes were locked on his face. So full of pain. So full of betrayel. She wanted to tell him it was alright but found herself without a voice.

Soon a bounding pup came to greet them by the front entrance of the mansion as they made their way to the stables. While the small dog tried his best to follow its newfound master, its large paws opressed the desire. It soon gave up and went back to sleeping underneath a bush while Alec helped Elizabeth onto his pitch-black horse. Her inner thighes were still soar from the day's lessons, but even so, she did not question anything, especially with Alec in this state. When he slipped into the saddle in front of her, she tentatively put her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek into his back. In a quiet, almost sad voice, she whispered, "... where are we going, Alec?"

"Away from there."

This only made her face soften as she stared at the moving ground. She could swear as they left the manor Shelty came hollering out in protest, however nothing registered to the woman who had her arms around the man she grew more and more in love with. The gentle gliding of the horse against the soft terrain and the darkening sky that laid a canvas of white around them. "... I'm glad."

She could feel his muscles tense beneath his shirt at the statement, but she did not know if that was necessarily a good thing...

oOo

When they entered town, most of the villagers had retired back to their cozy little cottage homes. The lanterns glowed brightly in the darkness, and as he hitched the horse to a post, helping Elizabeth from her perch, she found that he did not look at her much. His eyes were always concentrated on something else, and for a while she thought of it as nothing more than him being on edge... but now... it seemed like he could never make eye contact with her.

"Alec." She said firmly, finally _making _him look at her with those glorious green eyes. As she stared into them, the palm of her hand rested gently on his cheek, stroking it oh so softly, "... please... tell me what is wrong..." She knew what was wrong. She heard what Angus had said in the studies. Something about how he could kill her, how he _could _harm her. But even though she knew Angus was a good man, she found him foul at times like these when he belittled his own brother. When he made him... like _this. _A man fidgeting restlessly in her touch, so afraid of something she wished she could understand. If Alec could kill her. If he had it in him. Now would be the perfect chance, for they were in something that could be depicted as an alley, no one was around, and only a horse would bare witness. And yet she had every faith in Alec. She trusted him. She loved him.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth.. but... but I can't." He said stiffly, looking away from her. But she only moved his chin back to look at her firmly, the shock clear in his eyes.

"... Alec. I want to help you." That gaze... the way he was staring at her. The light that danced from eye to eye in reflection of the lanterns. While she felt uncomfortable being stared at in such away, she couldn't help but feel flattered at the same time. "A-Ale-!"

She felt lips upon her's. Her eyes were wide open but fluttered close as the sudden realization of what occured washed over her like a flood. Finally... finally, yes, this was what she wanted. This was what she _needed_. She couldn't have been any more happier than there in that moment, with his hand hungrily groping her back and the other cupping her face. Elizabeth could feel his tongue prodding at her bottom lip, requesting entrance, and once she allowed him to enter, his tongue fully explored her mouth. A moan released into the kiss which caused her to blush in embarassment at such a noise, but this seemed to only propel him further as he pressed her against the wall, her arms wrapping around his neck.

When they released to inhale oxygen, she turned her head away from his hopeful conintueation of the kiss. "Alec. Th... This is all too fast. I don't understand. Why no-"

"I love you, Elizabeth." He said breathlessly, gazing down at her in that firey light, "God, I love you so damn much it hurts. I know you heard what my brother said, and I'm actually glad you did. Cause now... now you know. I don't care what my brothers think, I love you Elizabeth and I am bloody well prepared to scream it from the heavens." She was on the verge of tears from pure happiness when he embraced her in another sweet kiss. _No, _she thought as she turned her head to the side again, the kisses smearing into her neck in reaction to the movement, "W-What is it..?"

"I just.. it's just that I heard, yes.. but... I want to understand. I want to understand what you bare in this world, what causes you to have that look that you hold when I glimpse you around the manor. Please. I just want to know." She said with a quivering voice. He frowned and turned away, rubbing his eyes.

"Elizabeth.."

"I know. I know it's difficult. And I'm sorry for asking.. but... if... if you are true. If you really do feel this way... I want to be there for you. Fully and entirely." This caused him to swing around and gaze at her with hungry eyes. As he approached her on fast-paced feet, she was pushed up against the wall once more. His voice was lusty and full of pain at the same time, causing her to feel bad for asking such a private question, yet he paid no time in explaining..

"I am the second youngest of the Kirkland brothers. They youngest and most successful is my brother, Arthur. I use to hate him and still sort of do, but when he went into the war, he asked the brothers to look over the Kirkland manor while he was gone. He sent letters every week years for two yand now.. now he hasn't sent a letter in a month."

"I-In all do respect, Alec, I already know this. I was not meaning this... I was meaning abou-"

"The warnings?"

She was shocked to hear this so casually spoken, the fact he knew what they were saying. This pained her since it must have not been easy hearing such horrible things be said. "It was two years ago when he went into the war, Elizabeth. Two years ago that I left my peaceful life to take over the manor. And that same damn year our mother, Britannia died in her bed, Arthur took over the inheritance. We all hated him for that, since technically Angus was suppose to be the heir. But.. But that's beside the point." He found it difficult to admit it, to continue and reveal his sins. "... the... the day of our mother's funeral... you must understand, Elizabeth, I loved my mother dearly. We were very close. I.. I felt betrayed that she would give her land to the youngest son, the brother I despised... and then dissapear without a single goodbye, giving me nothing but regrets and wondering.. what I had done wrong."

"A-Alec... what did you do?" She asked hesitantly, her hand cupping her mouth at the tragedy. His eyes were swelled from tears soaking the corners as he pressed his forehead up against the wall.

"... the day of my mother's funeral.. I had spent a few hours at the local bar before attending. And... and when I had arrived to the ceremony, her open coffin resting on that damn alter... I... I can't remember much. O-only... Only that what I had done... something happened in my drunken state that had left the coffin tipped, and my mother's body rolled out onto the floor. The... the croud that had come to see my mother stared in horror at me, like I was a monster. And... and I very well was. Arthur was the only one who didn't stare. He... He pressed me against the wall, he restrained me. I kept trying to kick and punch him, saying whatever the hell I wanted to say to him whether it was dishonerable or not. He dragged me outside... and he knocked me out. When I woke up... the ceremony was over. Our friends and family were gone and... and there was Arthur. Leaning against a carriage, a glass of wine in his hand and a look of dissapointment and shame on his face. He had waited for me to wake up. He was the only one who gave me that sliver of a chance. From what I heard... my brothers were all too eager to leave me for the dogs. But Arthur was there, helping me up, and getting me back home." A tear was now streaming down his face, his chin quivering as he tried to control himself. She found herself crying as well, trying to retain such tragic information.

"I still drank. The shame from the way my brothers looked at me... the way the villagers looked at me. It all weighed in. Everyone thought of me as not a Kirkland... not even my mother's son... but a monster. The town drunk. Every night I would just stay in my room, bottle after bottle piled asid my bed. After a while, my brothers accepted me back in out of pity, and when Arthur left... the drinking got worse. Many thought I would die by the end of the year from alcohol poisoning... but.. well... you can thank Peter. He was the one who stayed by my door, asking me questions, cheering me up. For him, I stayed sober enough to at least not be a vegetable. But... it wasn't enough."

"Alec... p-please. You don't have to explain if you don't wan-"

"No. Elizabeth. I... I want you to know. I want you to know what an aweful person I am. Please. I want you to see me for who I truly am." He said in a heart breakingly sorrowful voice.

"You're not an aweful person! I know that!"

"No you don't! I am. I... I hurt a woman, Elizabeth. The year following the incident, I was in a relationship with a woman. Her name was Nova Scotia. She was beautiful beyond belief, but... but my problems got in the way of her. We got into a fight... and... my anger got the best of me and the alcohol didn't help. She was stuck in a hospital the next thing I knew, a gash in her side and bruises all over. I... I don't like hurting people, Elizabeth. I... it just happened and.."

Elizabeth's eyes were wide, and she unconciously had backed up a bit from Alec. She saw him in a whole new light now... and yet... even with these horrid things he has done... she still couldn't help the way she felt about him.

"You think I'm a monster now too.. don't you?" He asked sadly, pitifully. But before he knew what was going on, her arms were around him and her lips had molded to his. There was no words to register the happiness he had when she kissed him like that, with that passion that he longed for. This was the only woman who had brought him back. This was the only woman who made him feel alive again. And here she was, loving him the same way he loved her. When they released, her eyes were still sad but at the same time happy.

"I don't care. You're not a monster, Alec. And even if you've done these things... I know that that was before. That was the old you. You're not that man. Not anymore. I see a man who is loving, caring, and will always be there for me. Like you already have."

He seemed overwhelmed by now, his face flushed and tears streaming down his face as he pressed her up against the wall kissing her deeply with so much love. "Elizabeth." He said in a voice full of hope and gratefulness. His hands settled on her hips as tongues dueled from within their mouths, the night air causing their skin to get goosebumps as his hand moved lower... and lower. Fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress, pulling it up as they slipped under and she couldn't help but moan softly into his smoke-tainted lips. "Elizabeth... I.. I don't have.."

"Th-that's okay... I can t-take something when we get back to the-Mmn!" She cried out suddenly at his touch. He smiled at this and his kisses traveled downwards from her mouth to her neck and finally to her collarbone, all the while slowly untying her dress and slipping it downwards.

oOo

The night continued beautifully. Their bodies sweat soaked and nude, lying within a haystack wrapped in eachothers arms. As they stared up at the starry sky, the lights above twinkling over them as if they deemed the act fully right, she couldn't help but gaze over at a watchful, beautiful pair of eyes. Alec gazed at her, the passion that had taken place just moments before still obvious within that stare and the smile that fell beneath it. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, brushing the stray bangs from her face as she reached for her glasses she had set off to the side during intercourse. "I love you Alec.." She whispered, brushing his cheek as he beamed down at her. His strong arms were wrapped around her as she leaned against one of them and curled towards his chest.

"I love you too, Elizabeth." He said quietly, finding it difficult to stop smiling for the sheer joy of all that had happened.

"We... we should probably start heading back." She mumbled dissapointedly into his chest. As he sensed the dissapointment in her voice, his gently clenched her hand and pulled slightly away to look at her.

"Then run away with me, Elizabeth. We... we can go to London. Or Ireland. Hell, we could go to Germany for all I care." She chuckled at this, "... we don't have to go back." She thought about this but closed her eyes, not wanting to end this moment. This beautiful dream, an invisible road that could take her far away with the man she loved. It sounded nice, just them and the open road. But... but he wasn't like her. He had family here. Family that cared about him, family that needed him. They couldn't run away from that.

"Alec... they need you. As much as they are cautious of you.. they do care about you. You're not like me with no family, you have one. A large one at that. One that will cherish your existence no matter where you are or what you do." He rolled his eyes trying to form a valid argument when suddenly he lashed his eyes back, a sudden spark in them. She chuckled at the look he gave her, "What is it?" She asked giggling, scooting her knees up to her revealed breasts as Alec scootched to the front of her.

"Then let's give them no reason to doubt us any further." He said with a huge smile and bright eyes. She chuckled but tilted her head curiously.

"What do you mean?" She asked skeptically as he clutched her hands into his, staring at her intently, heart beating faster by the minute. He said the words, but she didn't register them at first. They came out silent, and the beating of her heart was the only thing that she could hear, trying to read his lips as he said the words. "W-what?" She asked in pure shock. He chuckled wryly at her response to the proposal and once again asked.

"Will you marry me, Elizabeth?"

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

**_Notes:_**

_Gah! Sorry that I haven't posted in a while. Lol who knew I'd be so busy in summer! _

_Btw, if some of you haven't clued in already, they're in the middle of WW1... well I wouldn't say middle.. around the middle is more like it. _

_Hope you liked it! I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can!_


	4. The Soldier

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and possible rape._

* * *

_She is watching by the poplars_  
_Colinette with the sea blue eyes_  
_She is watching and longing and waiting_  
_Where the long white roadway lies_  
_And a song stirs in the silence_  
_As the wind in the boughs above_  
_She listens and starts and trembles_  
_'Tis the first little song of love._

She hummed to herself, piercing her lips within the dead silence of the ride home. While her heart spasmed like an epoleptic, making the air difficult to take in, she found that happiness, glee and dread blossomed within her oh so tightly. In fact, Elizabeth questioned whether such emotions could fit together without tearing eachother apart... almost a foreboding of what was to come. For down the road, through the grasslands of flocking sheep and the stephills of ghastly and goul-fonded woods, sat the Kirkland Manor. It's threatening radiance and looming, ancient, seemingly forgotten beauty hanging like a yoke around her neck. But this song, this simple song that she had heard on the first night of her staying in the giant manor, this blissful ballod with the military inuendo within its words, now gave her great comfort. It was the day she met Alec. It was the night he had first admired her from a far. And now, as they rode up to his family full of disapproving faces and horrid opinions, a betrothed hand held in another, the song of wartime and the presence of the man she loved gave her hope. Hope for a future. Hope for a new start. Hope for love.

"You aren't nervous are you?" came his amused laugh and a strict, sideways glance he tended to give her at times like these. She just turned her head a smiled fondly at her fiance.

"Of course I am."

"At least you've met them before." He paused, biting his lip in thought, "now that I think of it, maybe that isn't such a good thing..."

Her laugh filled the chilling morning air, a whool blanket wrapped around her goosebump-riddled figure, as pale as the fine china stashed away in the manor. "... Alex?"

"Yes, lass?"

"Do you think... do you think they'll support it?"

The length of time it took for the Scottsman to answer made her bide the fear that swelled within her. "If they don't... then they're a bunch of useless eejits." Revealing a comforting smile to him she rubbed her thumb against his knarled, weathered fingers, which in return he brought to his lips and kissed. "don't let them say nothin' bad about us... we love eachother... and that's all that matters, right?"

"Right." She said a little more confidentally. But when time flew by and the horse came to a hault outside a manor lined up with the help and the residents... all that confidence drained from her face.

Angus and Gavan, their hands behind their back and a look of disappointment adorning their youthful faces lashed like a whip upon her esteem. But Alec paid no mind to his brothers' disdain or posture of distrust, instead, he swung off the horse and in turn helped Elizabeth from the saddle. "Oh? A welcome party? Just for me? How thoughtful." Alec remarked snidely to his brothers who's faces tightened. Gavan wore the face of a man dragged to the scolding while Angus wore one of a man who had everything to protect.

"Don't you dare act like nothing is wrong, Alec. Where were you all night?" Alec just wrapped a tight hand around Elizabeth, pulling their hips together with a lopsided grin.

"Oh come now, brother, I thought you were smarter than that.." _Alec! Don't provoke him! _The message was deffinitely recieved, if not by the words than by the wink that followed. And in response, the Irishman's fists tightened like worn leather, the deffinitions of his jaw revealing as his teath gritted.

"What're ye sayin', Alec?" He growled lowly, threateningly. And if she couldn't have felt ever more uncomfortable, she was pulled forward by the wryly gesting Alec and pushed passed the brothers and into the manor, only stopping to hear her fiance's snidely-toned remark.

"I'm sayin' I has a wedding to plan."

If only she could've seen Angus' face.

.

.

**_SIX WEEKS LATER_**

The warmth one shares for another melts deep into not only the heart but the soul of that person. They can feel their breath upon their skin, even in the faintest exhale. They can feel the touch, smell, the _taste _of their lover better than their own. It's not just that they've memorized every embodiment of the person who shares their bed, they've also become that person, grown into a form in which two people act in a fluid motion, so involved with the other they forget they are two single beings. And as she lay there, silken sheets wrapped around her body like a constricting snake, invisible words peeked themselves through her lips. '_Married. I'm married.'_ Even in the fact that she was so happy about the wedding, so accomplished and free... in some ways, it struggled to sink in. For this flaccid man beside her, face burried softly and peacefully within the covers and a pin-point spot of drool beneath his pink lips, was her husband. The husband she had never thought to even dream of. After all, Alec Kirkland was handsome, successful and had easily wooed her with just the simple act of helping her out of the mud. Of all of the men in the world, of all the lookers that a young woman could flatter herself over... she'd see no other like this auburn gent.

With the wedding being a modest success, Elizabeth's fears of Angus' degradement of their betrothal had made themselves dorment for the time being. And for the first time in a very, very long time... it felt like all of the weight had since been lifted from her shoulders. With Hellen, Orkney, Rochal and Shelty performing a beautiful ceremony for them and inviting as many people that were willing to go, a woman of her age couldn't dream of a more beautiful wedding. Of course, Angus was not exactly approving, but all the while he serviced the guests and talked his brother up to them, even when at times it seemed to Elizabeth he was more trying to protect the family name more than his brother's reputation. But Alec wasn't exactly the happiest with the wedding, for the man that he'd been wanting to give 'best man' to had then been absent for almost three months... and still no word. How he would've been more exuberant in the wedding if Arthur had been standing up there, a soft smile on his face and the pride of a lion in his eyes, holding their ring. A suit taylored by the finest gentleman would be bestowed upon his lanky, and yet, dignified form. If only. Gavan ended up being the alternative, Hellen her own bridesmaid in which the woman was happy to do so. And despite the repuatation the Kirklands are so fond of reminding her of, a good number of people came to view the wedding, including most of the townsmen like Geir who kept giving stoic glances of noticeable amusement throughout their vows. Despite his lack of humor or liveliness in general, he seemed like a trusted man with good morals, so she gave him looks of gratitude right back. And when the ceremony was done and the bouquet was thrown, her and Alec agreed to not take the time to go on honeymoon, and instead stay at the manor. Not out of an act of frugality or even lack of wanting an adventure, but because they both agreed that it may be best to stay and help the family sink in the fact that they were married.

"Ms. Elizabeth," said Angus, smiling kindly and taking her hand in a gentle manor to bring it to his lips as he bowed, "... I think that this is long overdue... however, it is all the same." His eyes moved upward to her, his lips lingering on her fingers, "welcome to the family."

"Thank you, Mr. Angus." She replied politely, dipping her head in return. "And thank you for bringing all these people. I realize that you're not exactly the businessman of the family, nor do you exactly support our cause, so I do very much appreciate your hard work in setting all this up."

"Please, Ms. Elizabeth, we are family now, and I treat all my family to the best I can spare."

"Too kind, Mr. Angus. Too kind." Shaking her head, she turned to find her husband, her gorgeous white dress trailing behind her with the hand sewn threads. It was Alec's mother's dress which they had found in the loft just a few days before, drenched in webs and dust, but nothing the taylor couldn't fix. Her hair done up and her ankle healed, Elizabeth truly was the epitamy of beauty, in fact, when the dim light of the cloud-blanketed sky struck her at a certain angle, she looked like a swan, floating above the grass in her feathers of white.

And now, as he situated herself onto the cold, creaky, wooden floorboards, her toes curling at the touch of the grainy wood, she couldn't help but revel in what the day had to bring. So many oppurtunities, so many ideas, and she had all her life to spend them with Alec... even if he did tend to snore a little louder than she originally thought. But those snores soon faded and with fluttering open of his eyes he enchanted himself with her nude form in front of the window, the white sheet draped across her unmentionables. This just made him smile in awe, and as he sat up with a groan, he stretched his long and impressive arms above his head, yawned, tasted his mouth, and then placed his attention to his wife. This beautiful figure that entranced him like the syrans of Odysseus, alluring him to lean in with a morning rasp, "my little lamb, sleep well?" Turning, her specs now being placed upon the bridge of her nose from the coffee table, a smile brightening itself upon her lips.

"Like a baby, I'd say." She replied with a chuckle, taking a step back as he raised his nude figure from the bed to press himself against her and connect ther lips in a gentle kiss. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that only the thin sheet divided them from eachother.

When he pulled away, admiring his wife's delicate features he just grinned in delight to the scene. "I must go tend to the chores... meet me at breakfast, _Mrs. Kirkland_?" He finally asked turning away to adorne his well-toned figure with the worker's attire of simple trousers tucked within the lips of his boots and a white shirt caressing the all-too familiar muscles.

"Would I have it any other way, _Mr. Kirkland?_" Elizabeth smirked, gracefully sitting herself on the bed and waiting for the Scotsman to finish harnessing his buckle and make his way out of the room before relinquishing the sheet from her bossom. As it fell to the floor in a heap, she hastily gathered the appropriate morning garments, addressing her hair and fixating her glasses comfortably on her nose before making her way out of the door, carefully avoiding the plump Ms. Hellen.

"Oh! Crivens me, lassy! I didn't realize you were up this early! My apologies, m'lady, If I would've known I swear I would've come in to dress yo-"

"Ms. Hellen, please. It's quite alright. After all, I'm not exactly a woman of aristocracy, I can live with dressing myself." She chuckled, "come, Ms. Hellen, you should know this by now.."

"Yes, of course, m'lady." And with that, she disappeared into the room to fix the bedding, leaving Elizabeth to continue down the hallway that had become so familiar to her. It seemed Alec had completely disappeared from the corridore let alone the wing of the manor, however, she was very use to being left to guide herself alone in the mansion. And at times, it taught her a great deal more than if she had her arms wrapped around the bicep of her husband. Old tomes and beautiful tapestries most likely forgotten by the brothers she viewed in awe. Work that had been invisible to their owners and probably purchased generation before sat on dusty old bookshelves only to be devoured hungrily by Elizabeth's starving eyes. Counting three versions of the Christian Bible, four books of Shakespeare and five generations of almanacs, a countless amount of knowledge could be found within the 'decorative' book cases around the manor, some dating back all the way to the Revolutionary War. Even if one could be crumbly, she'd take it like a jewel as the most beautiful and magnificent thing in the world.

But at times like these, when Alec had work to do and herself to bare, she found it difficult to keep herself busy and entertained. The help deffinitely aided in accomplishing these tasks but only for a few moments before they needed to get back to work. And even though her husband had supposedly changed a great deal, as everyone has stated, he still forbade music from the halls. Not a single sound of an instrument could reach her ears save the occassional brush of glass or the humming of a servant. Why, she could never know due to Alec's determination in keeping the secret from her. Whatever it was, whatever the cause, it seemed to strike the man down to the core whenever she asked... so she stopped asking.

Suddenly the jingling of the meal bell sounded across the mansion, calling out to the household that breakfast had been served more than not in a decorous manor. Orckney tended to believe in Alec's ideals in the colenary arts, even if the taste itself was of a divine essence not even Van Gough could achieve. And that taste, the memory of the texture in Orckney's perfectly fluffy swedish pancakes caused her mouth to fill with a yearning abundance of water. Though, she never would state that... because in this household, even if the majority was of men... she convinced herself to be the womanly touch they needed. And that meant for her, a correct posture, a polite attitude and an optimistic way of thought to the pessimistic groggers around her.

"Ms. Shelty," she called, approaching the massive dining hall in which Gavan and and Peter had already made their way to. The young maid glanced over her shoulder, blinking worrysomly at Elizabeth. A strand of hair unleashed itself from her bonnet, falling between her eyes as she clumsily tries to swipe it behind her ear. "Have you seen my husband?" Elizabeth asked, looking around to spot the invisible man.

"No, I'm afraid not, ma'am."

"Elizabeth will do."

"Elizabeth ma'am."

"Yes... well did you see him earlier?"

"Not since he left for the pastures, ma'am."

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth ma'am."

When she was just about to give up hope in talking to the dense young woman, Rochal bounded his way up to Elizabeth, a stack of teacups surprisingly placed in the crook of his arms. For a boy of maybe eight, his service was incredible. "Are talkin' 'bout Mr. Alec, ma'am?" The small servant boy prattled, his bright eyes shining with youth.

"Yes, yes, quite so. Have you seen him?"

"I sure 'ave, Mrs. Elizabeth. He gone off huntin' 'em rabbits in the patch. He poppin' 'em off like a radge, ma'am."

"He's.. thank you. Could you please tell Mr. Orkney we may be late for breakfast?"

"Of course ma'am."

Never so harshly had she fumed, her heels clicking and her face red with anger as she dashed through the Kirkland manor. She had told him a thousand times to let the dog chase the rodents and birds away from the garden and even the canine was but a pup, his instincts would kick in soon enough. Words she never thought to think of curled in her mind like vile of poison teatering on the edge of table to spill right upon her husband's shoulders. Gloved hands curling over the hemming of her dress, she quickly evaded the studies of Angus to not distress him any further with her relationship. After all, the dealings between Alec and Elizabeth were between them and them alone, or at least that is how it should be.

But just as her parade across the large expanse of a kitchen came to an end, through the door leading out from the garden came the tall, grumbling Alec. Her mouth was about to open to gest the poor man when suddenly, she got a full look at him. Now this wasn't just another water-eyed perfect picture of her lover, in fact it was quite the opposite. For the great and proud lion, Alec Kirkland... was dripping in mud and soil from head to toe. A dangerous scowl adorned his face, a streak of grass stain smudged right up the side of his face. And because of this single scene, this scene of absolute humility for her husband... all anger had vanished. All feeling of betrayal forgotten and just the growing snicker rendered from her lips. Giggling, snickering, and then laughter filled the air at the expense of poor Alec. "I... am so... mad at you right now. But I can't stop bloody laughing!" She howled, curling over the counter, her face pink with mirth and her stomach aching a number. But the laughter, as she found, was contagious, for soon Alec was hunched over the door frame hurling up laughter at the whole mess.

"Why... w-why are you mad?"

"You were... killing r-rabbits..."

"Well obviously the rabbits killed me-" And then the frame and counter wasn't enough for them anymore and the floor gratefully took their shaking bodies. But as the merriment finally subsided and their bodies finally became their own, she looked up at him with the eyes of disappointment but a smile of entertainment. It was quite a confusing look for the Scotsman. "I'm sorry.." he chuckled, "I truly am. But y'know, we do need our crops for the autumn harvest."

"But you don't need to be killing them."

"Listen, let's just forget about this, allow me to put on some untainted garments, and let us proside over our original breakfast plans."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, darling, but I'm afraid that I can't let you do that. If not for the killing, for just the fact that you got beaten by a bunch of rabbits." And the laughter was back, even louder than before and she fell backwards onto the kitchen floor only to be met by a bowl of flour falling onto her face. Muffled laughter soon turned to cries of indignancy, writhing about and clawing at anything close until finally the bowl was off, grains of flour all over the woman. "You wanker!" She snarled as Alec rolled, practically crying.

"Now now," He howled, "that's no way for a _lady _to speak." But it was too late. He met his demise as soon as the bowl fell, for while she had flour in her hair, he soon had it dumped inside of his jacket and coat. "Agh! You're awful!"

"As are you!" They laughed as Alec undid his vest and started flilpping his shirt up and down to get the grains out. "You know how long it took to get ready this morning?" she hissed through her giggles; the silent kind that drive a squealing hiccup from its victom.

"I only can imagine." He sniggered wrapping his arm around Elizabeth, pulling her tight to his side as she rested her head upon his shoulder, their backs pressing against the body of the counter. She smell the dirt on his neck, feel it tamper with the grains still varnishing her golden hair. But as she nuzzled closer, their movement becoming ever so lethargic, she could feel the heat he was admitting. Hear his heart beat like the steed he rode, hear his breath only imagining what it would feel like on her skin right now. She didn't have to hint, she didn't have to ask, or even move, because to be in love is to be a single unit, and that single unit became locked together by lips and the ravaging of clothes. "I deffinitely can imagine how long it took you... cause it's taking me a hell of a long time to get them off! How do you do this!?" She chuckled breathlessly as her heart beat faste with her skin tingling in anticipation.

"Undo the buttons, Alec. On the back of my neck."

"It won't come off, bugger!"

"Here, let me do it-"

"No, no I got it.."

"Pardon me." They both looked up, horror melting into Elizabeth's face and embarassment soon following.

"Brother." Alec growled in annoyance to Angus as the tall, musky figure stood in the door. It was then that Elizabeth realized that all the respect and aristocracy she had accumulated for herself in the household vanished just now. With both of them covered in grime, dirt, and God knows what, she couldn't help but scramble to her feet only heightening her husband's disappointment.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then..." The man said, turning from the doorway in an awkward manor.

"Oh, you're just going to leave us after ruining the moment? How _kind _of you, Angus."

"If you would like to shag it up where I eat, I am perfectly fine with it, Alec."

"And what's 'at suppose to mean!?-"

"_There's a soldier at the door." _Angus suddenly shouted. In all the time that she had spent in the Kirkland manor, she had never once heard Angus truly yell. It was not just terrifying, but made her feel as if she was being dragged down to a cold abyss with no ways of escape too. "A soldier." her heart dropped. Everything went silent and as he stood at the door, looming over them with an air of hanging disdain. And when she looked over at her husband, his face was solemn, the dimples of a clenched jaw revealed upon his freckled cheeks. "I'd advise you to make yourselves presentable..." Angus growled, turning away and disappearing into the corridore. But Alec just sat there, fist clenched and heart racing until his legs finally were compliant enough to raise.

"Elizabeth, my dear... please get ready..." He said in a shaky voice.

"Of cours-"

"In more ways than one."She knew he was trying to convince his own selft, but all the while he sent himself scrambling towards the chamber stairs, mud tracking behind each hollering step. And then she was alone, her heart beating fast and her glasses unbalanced upon her face. With a number of substances burried within her hair she finally forced herself to raise and follow in her husband's tracks. Not thinking, or perhaps thinking to much. All she knew was about to change, that was evident. For it was unclear if it was the infamous Arthur or just another soldier, and in many ways, she prayed for it to be Arthur. Because if it wasn't... no... no no she couldn't think of that. She had to be strong for Alec.

Once she had reddied a new set of clothes the remaining smell of the missed breakfast still hung in the air. Her walk was not as prompt and readied like this morning, after all, there was a great load of stress hanging down upon her shoulders. A great weight descending like an angel struck down by lightning and smacking the ground. This is how she felt, and how she assumed her husband did heightened trice the comparison. But when she entered the living hall, a flame flickering in the fire place and a uniformed gentleman sitting across from the brothers, her fears were brought to reality. The soldier's face did not match the majestic paintings of a lion-like figure that adorned the hallways. He did not wear eyes of green like the other Kirklands, nor did he carry the brow of them. His hair, though hard to see beneath his uniform cap she found tannish, and sandy brown, a color more like Rochal's than anyone. But she had to be strong. For Alec.

"Good evening, sir." She greeted, forcing a smile as she entered the room. Eyes flickered to her instantly, the soldier turning to view the lady of the house.

"Good evenin, "he nodded, smiling with a sweet, Southern American draw. At least he was smiling. There could be hope yet. At least, that was what she told herself as Alec finally entered the doorway, his hair wet and clean and his clothes fresh without a single piece of grime.

"Topa' th'mornin'." Alec nodded to the soldier as he sat down, his jaw squared and his posture professional. But Elizabeth knew better. She saw the light drain from his eyes, she saw his jaw clench to dimples, the color of his face turning flat and even the sound of his leathery hands tightening into fists. No one else seemed to notice Alec shaking... but she did. And she placed her hand right onto his lap, warm, comforting, a smile to be given with all the love she mustered up. "What brings you, out here?" He asked with a voice whos distress would be invisible to the naked eye.

"Ah, what else would bring me to the UK besides good quality bourbon?" The soldier laughed dryly. But none of them laughed. They just waited, thickening the air with dread and for the poor American, he could only shuffle uncomfortably under the weight of their eyes. He took his cap to his knee, scratching the cloth in anxiety. "My name is Alfred F. Jones Lieutenant of the United States Infantry." he sucked in a breath, and they held theirs. "I'm afraid Colonal Arthur Kirkland is dead."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

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_BLERCH sorry that this took so long guys! To be fair, I was unable to log on to my account for a very long time because I had forgotten I switched my emails. HOWEVER I am here now and proviing good angsty story writing. I'd like to thank the reviewers for promptiming me to continue this fanfiction when it looked as if it would die. Love you guys!_


	5. Missing Hope

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and possible rape._

* * *

Death. It is a thing that most humans fear and yet respect with a realm of uncertainty. Like a serpent it slithers around, sniffing for its prey and licking at the air, shedding scales about for people to step on or find unwillingly. It claims its victoms without them even knowing they've been claimed until it's too late, trapped behind its cold jaws. Sometimes, fate itself finds one to be unlikely of survival, scraping it off this earth like a bug under unmerciful hands. But sometimes, it is another bug that kills them. The need of survival or pleasure too great and too instinctive to deny the shed of blood.

Elizabeth knew the tragedies of the Great War. She knew the numbers that the radios in town gave of the death toles of the British. She heard the new inventions they've discovered, the new weapons they've created all to win an idiot war of 'who's stronger'. She's even seen the women in town scream and fall to the ground just from reading the first few words, "We regret to inform you..". While this broke Elizabeth's heart, to see the room's atmosphere drop over the cliff edge and smack onto the ground, she found it quite interesting as well on why a soldier came to give the dreadful news himself. As she watched the American soldier hand her husband the letter containing those very words, quietly, her mind pondered. As did the family's.

"Lieutenant Jones, sir." Angus spoke up, speaking for his breathless younger brother. "if you don't mind me asking, what're you here for? Why'd you spend the time to come up here and hand us this instead of the usual courier who'd leave right after the delivery?" The hint of loss was evident in his voice as it quivered to and fro.

"Well, Mr. Kirkland, sir. Your brother was.. very close to me. Closer than most." While the man was meloncholly, a smile still adorned his lips. "He was with me when he died. And... it took me a very long time to believe he was really gone. I apologize, I really shouldn't be talkin' 'bout this stuff to a mournin' family.. but I just felt that telling you in person is worth my leave."

"It's quite alright, Mr. Jones." Gavan broke in, his soft smile and radiant complexion once more evident. It's like the news hadn't affected him one bit. "You should know, we are a family of strong bond and stronger mental capacity. We're just as interested to hear how our brother died." Alfred nodded, eyes blue and uncertain.

"He was killed by a mine explosion on the side of the road. Damn huns had scattered them around the area without us even knowin'." He scoffed, swiping a bang from his face, "of course, we're gettin' dogs in by next Friday, but that's beside the point..." She watched him breath in, hearing the quiver in his lungs despite the strong face he held. Elizabeth knew he was holding it for them. It was the attitude a man forced himself to display, to show strength, and to show no weakness. As a soldier, it was manditory.

"... if it helps any," the soldier said, "he died without any pain. It was quick. And his time in the military was beloved by those around him. I'm sure you know as well as I do that he was a figure of idolizatio-"

"-shut up."

A hiss came from beside her, Alec's bangs covering his eyes as he leaned forward to smack the paper on the coffee table, "How do you know he didn't feel any pain? How did you know he didn't have somethin' on his mind to say before he died or what he was thinking about or what he wanted-"

"-Alec." Angus growled.

"-how do you know if he hated it there, if he wanted to come home or if he cared that everyone idolized him. Of course we fucking know he was a real gentleman, we're his goddamn brothers, there is no 'I'm sure' you clag-tailed little shit-"

"_Alec."_

_"How do you know?!" _her arm was wrapped distressfully around her shaking husband's as he stood, staring patronizingly down at the young American who just sat there in shock. Angus however seemed to look like he was about to blow up on Alec, which she did not doubt, however it was still quite discomforting how fast the situation had slid out of control.

"I know... because he was like a brother to me." the soldier finally replied.

"But you weren't his brother. You didn't grow up with him."

"No. I didn't. Your right about that. I grew up by myself, and I guess the nature of Arthur is what made me feel like I was under his wing." Alec drew back slightly. They all recognized the brotherly instinct of Arthur, how he carried himself, how he looked over those who were younger or in need of closure. "Listen, I know yer mad. And you have every right to be. After all, it can't be easy hearin' that such a great man had his last hours spent with a boy like me. I get it. I do. But... if I know Arthur... he wouldn't want you to be killin' your own selves over his death." Silence. Alec sat back down on the sofa, causing both Elizabeth and Angus to relax a little. "I don't want to make enemies with the only people Arthur ever talked about. So... in respect of you, and the current circumstance, I'll take my leave." With a nod he raised and Angus started forward, taking a hand to his arm.

"Wait, sir, please. You're not imposing on anyone." He cried reassuringly. "you said you're on leave... you don't have anywhere to stay do you?"

"Well... no not exactly. I mean, I can find some inn or somethin'-"

"Nonsense, lad. You're staying here. There's a few extra rooms upstairs; take your pick."

"Er, but I-"

"I said yer stayin' and that's final!"

The poor soldier blinked in a bemusing manor, stiff and unsure whether to listen to this massive grizzly of a man and face the consequences of the brother that sat loathingly on the couch. He did need a place to stay after all, but then again, taking leave to just another battle ground wasn't exactly what he had planned for.

"Well... 'long as I'm not intruding..."

"Your about as intruding as our mother, and if you knew Arthur, then you'd know that our mother was a real cow. But we loved her nonetheless." He cackled brightly, sending waves of smiles through the room and a bit more confidence to be released into the air. It had been a long time since she'd seen Angus smile like that. She hadn't seen it since she first met him... and it made her heart beat deeper and a smile cross her face as well. But when she glanced beside her, in this air of celebration of the guest, she only found a broken Alec. Drained of color from his face, eyes focused on that note. He was different from the other Kirklands. She knew this more than anyone. It seemed that the rest of the brothers would cross a tragic bridge like this, burrying their grievances and longings with that bridge. But Alec wore his grievances on a sleeve, for all to see and glower upon. But she did not glower. She did not cast eyes of shame on her husband like he was some weak, tragic figure that over dramatized crutial moments. She did not dwell on the fact his hot-headed temper soared with heartbrake and distress. No. She did not do any of those things because as his wife, as his loving spouse, her role was to drape her arms around him, and hug him tightly. To whisper words of assurance and kindness to him. To love him. And she did that better than anyone.

He released from her, kissing her forehead and getting up, his somber face disappearing behind the wall only to leave her with worried questions. It seemed like Gavan was the only other person in the room that noticed Alec had left. Even the servants were too busy admiring the American. Curling her fingers around her dress, she raised herself from the sofa hurriedly to follow her husband only to be caught by Gavan with his un-laboured hands. "I do not recommend following him, this evening, Ms. Elizabeth." Gavan stated in a calm, cool tone. She shooke her arm away.

"Mind the fact that I am his wife. He needs me."

"He needs _time._" The man's glorious green eyes burned into her's, "this wound that has been inflicted upon him is deep. Arthur was the only one of us that Alec really felt close to. He practically raised Arthur. It's almost like a father losing a child. Or a child losing a hand-raised dog. The bond was close, even if it was devided by petty arguments and belittled loathing." She thought about this, Gavan's hand comfortingly placed on her shoulder. Mind wandering, she understood the nature of their relationship, these two brothers. Alec had explained to her countless amount of times that the bond was strong, and that even if Arthur was a "glorified show pony" he still was there for him in times of need. For that, she owed everything to this lost prince. She may have not been married right now, or even met Alec if it wasn't for him.

"I understand.." She nodded, her fingers tightening. "... isn't there anything I can do?"

Gavan smiled softly, its warmth and radiance coating her. "be ready."

_Be ready? But what does that mean?_ She thought to herself, about to ask aloud when she found Gavan already turning away to shake hands with the American. _This Mr. Jones, _she thought, observing the soldier intensely, _he's a different kind of man. One that can smile in the bleakest of moments, even if it's disrespectful. How can he do that? _but at that moment, she didn't know whether it was insulted dumbfoundedness or admiration that she held for him. And when those blue eyes surfaced from the Kirkland frenzy around him, they struck through her with the same warmth Gavan held just moments before.

The warmth of acceptance.

oOo

After the greeting, she had wandered the halls aimlessly. The corridores adorned with paintings of the comfirmed-dead lion. His proud features, his porceline skin, his light blonde locks that framed a just-short of angelic face. He was beautiful.. a man of great mysticism and handsome, prince-like qualities. To think that this lored man would never be able to be in her presence, that she would never be able to meet him... it brought great sadness to her. And this feeling built over the course of the day, and when she finally returned to her chamber to get some sleep, not even a single moment of shut-eye could be retained. Her worries were to wrought with fear and pain. Her fears dictated the night and plagued her mind with belittled scenarios.

When the next day arrived, she carried on like normal. Dressing herself in the Kirkland apparel, holding chin-high and posture erect with not a hint of worry, even if it was swarming like the flight of a million angry bees. She attempted to ask the servants, but they refused to lay a word down on any knowledge of Alec's whereabouts. They knew something, but they were stiff with secrets. Passing by Alec's studies a numerous amount of times throughout the day only made her fears grow even worse. And all this time she could hear the distant sound of music echoeing from the otherside of the house... the guest bedroom. The American that was so ignorant to the nature of this quiet manor had not a clue of the distress she felt and the loathing she felt towards him. And even when she attempted consulting Gavan, he only reminded her that her husband needed his time. But she had given him time. She had given him a whole night to leave her alone, cold and lonely in her bed with no strong arms to warm her. She gave him the morning, the evening, and the afternoon to not show his face. But time was growing distant. Vague and invisible as the hours ticked by, and her fears became more real.

The second day, and still no sign of her husband. Her gut weakened by worry, she realized how desperately she relied on Alec. Even when Elizabeth was just a mere guest in the Kirkland manor, she would still meet Alec's gaze constantly, even if that gaze did not fancy her at the time. She would see him at breakfast, at lunch and at dinner. He would give her that grin and tell her tales of adventure. Now, she felt lonely, and forgotten... and avoided. _It's been only two days_ she told herself, sipping her tea in the living room then realizing that every movement across the hall she fridgidly glanced at with hope. But her husband was never that presence, usually it was just the dog and the two children or the occasional Gavan.

This loneliness she felt, it corrupted her logic and her morals. Fears of walking into a room to find a corpse or a hanging man or an ale-poisoned dobber clawed its gnarl fingers at her sense of reality. Every corner, every part of the garden, and ever ditch in the road became unbarable to look at. It was only when the third day came around, late in the afternoon without a single sign of Alec's presence did the hole in her heart decay into unstable quivering and mindless shaking. He was avoiding her. That fact was quite obvious. But it pained her to search for the reason why or how she could fix it. But answers would not float down from the heavens. They would not lay her husband down in front of her and tell her that things were alright. Because answers did not exist in this household. If answer were wanted, the one asking would need to get it themselves, even if it meant sacrificing the moral of the situation. And unfortunately, her moral had been rubbed raw.

Her knuckles, painted white from clenching knocked sensitively on Angus' study door. Of all the people who she told herself she wouldn't go to... worry had sent her here. When she was issued in by a noncholant brogue, her eyes wandered across the study. She had never really seen Angus' study room before, the only time she was able to obtain a mere glance was when she was eavesdropping on his argument with Alec, ending in the best night of her life. But now that she had a good look at the room, she was amazed at all the collectibles and photographs decorating its walls and floor. Model airplanes hung from the ceiling, panels of mahogany colored the study with red and brown. Through the window, a grid of light descended across the floor and to the opposite wall, brightening it with natural contrast. And in the center of the decorous clutter, between a messy jenga of paper and books and a neat pile of documents sat Angus, a book in hand. She doubted the man knew even half of the words within the tome, but nonetheless she spoke. "Angus?" His eyes lifted immediately.

"Ms. Elizabeth. May I help you?"

She bit her lip. The pace she sucked in her breath wasn't meant to be so sharp, but unfortunately, it did not go unnoticed by the burley man. In a flash, he was knealed before her, holding her hand gently with a worried expression. "Oh lassy, are you alright?" Even if this man had his judgements screwed on wrong, he was a decent fellow, one that she didn't necessarily trust, but did admire.

"Alec's missing."

"He's what?" He stood, leaning against the desk and eyeing her with a look of confusion. "missing?"

"Yes... he's been missing for three days-"

"And you just tell me now?"

"Well to be fair sir, your not exactly the easiest man to approach with anything about us." Angus' face hardened and he looked down, sniffing and then letting out a breath.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"When Mr. Jones arrived."

There was a pause and he gave her a look of belittlement with a hint of sympathy. "Did you ever think he might've felt a little outmatched by Jones?"

"By Mr. Jones!? Mr. Jones is an ignorant, immature man who needs to grow up. I know for certain Alec does not feel 'out matched'."

"You can never know for certain about Alec-"

"Yes. Actually I _can. _Angus." She growled sharply, a fire burning furiously in her eyes. "believe it or not... I know your brother better than you do. And you give him not even half the amount of credit he deserves." Angus was taken aback by this lashing. So much so that he ended up sitting on the desk looking down and rubbing his eyes with soil-stained fingers.

"You're bloody right." Now it was Elizabeth's turn to be taken aback.

"I am?"

"Aye. You are. Ever since our mum died, I haven't been the best brother to Alec. I know that." He looked at her with a gaze of pure pain and guilt. "but you must understand, dear lassy... my actions are for the good of the family, not just one person."

"But you can't be a family without that one person." She replied, stern yet with less fire. Angus smiled, shaking his head slowly.

"No, I suppose you can't."

Her features softened as she made her way over to Angus, taking his hand in her's and rubbing it softly with her thumb. Compared to her doll-like, petite appendage, his was monstrous, and could practically brake her hand like a tooth pick if he wanted. But like most sizes go, he was but a gentle giant. "Angus... you don't have to disapprove of us... we love eachother. I just wish you'd see that."

"It's hard for me to see when my eyes are clouded over with the past."

She smiled, sitting next to him on the desk. "but you need to meet the past with support for your family. For the future. Even if the past is bleak, he still is trying to fix himself. He hasn't had a single drink since he met me, and that's a fact." His eyes were full of uncertainty, but did reveal the slightest of understanding. "Please, just promise me you'll try."

There was a long moment of silence, a quiet laugh and a sigh, "I will.."

"Thank you." She said with a steady breath. "Now... please.. do you know of any place he may b-"

Everything froze still. Meaningless were the words in her mouth or the thoughts Angus was thinking-the doubt. Everything in comparison to the figure standing in the door, circles around his eyes, his hair messied and his posture ragged. His clothes were tattered with soil and a bottle of rum was found in his left hand, waggering slightly off the door frame. She didn't want to believe it. After the words she had just spoken, after finally her convincing the great doubter that there may be some light... here Alec stood... wasted to an unbarable level. When everything unpaused, when everything returned back and shifted to an awkward dryness. When Angus' meager hope was replaced with worse doubts and belittlemant than he carried before. She felt not only happiness that she had found her husband... but an insulted ache. Like all the worry had been for nothing... because the worry had been for this irresponsible child. And when Alec just grinned a druncard's grin. She lost it.

_SLAP!_

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	6. The Soldier's Phonograph

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and possible rape._

* * *

"How could you!?" She screamed, throwing her arms up in the air, nostrils flaring as she flew up from the bed. Elizabeth had locked herself in there the whole day and only in the morning when Alec's voice floated through the door did she pay notice.

"Elizabeth, just let me explai-"

"No! You embarassed me, Alec. You embarassed me in front of practically the whole house."

"It was just my brother."

"Your brother is the head of the family and the one man I strive to reassure the most! Did you have any idea how much it took to convince him we _may be _good for eachother?"

"Yes.. he told me.." at the memory, he rubbed his soar jaw.

"Then you also know how much I presuaded him to rely on us? And now all of that is down the drain. Ugh. You have no idea how furious I am right now!" Her pale skin had flushed to a dark pink hue, eyes wild with anger, her clenched fists shaking in furocity. She was hurt. For three days he didn't show his face... and then he has the gaul to finally reveal himself drookit in alcohol. Of all times.

"_I'm sorry. _Lord, I'm so so sorry! I never meant to hurt you, Elizabeth. I just... " collapsing into a sitting position on the bed, he rubbed his hand over his face. "... I'm so sorry..."

There was a long pause as she stared from the window sill at her husband, her loathing face beginning to soften. Maybe it was the fact she hadn't seen him in three or four days that caused her to become malleable. But either way, her posture, tightened as it was, relaxed and she slowly, hesitantly, made her way to the bed. Her hand brushed the gorgeously carved wood, speaking in a slow voice. "... how can I trust what you say, when your actions show otherwise?"

He released his hands from his face, slowly looking downwards in a grave manor. "... I don't know.." he whispered, turning to look at his wife with guilt-plagued eyes, misted over with a glaze of tears and booz, "... but I love you, Elizabeth. I never want to hurt you."

Breathing out, she cradles her palm against her husband's cheek, caressing the defined bone neath his freckled skin. "I love you too. I know you wouldn't hurt me... but you have to stop drinking so much. I don't care if you drink Alec. Crivens, I even drink sometimes... but the devil's blood isn't going to bring your brother back." The words were harsh, brutal, and honest. But she felt like Alec needed to hear them, and indeed he did. His eyes wide and his face fallen he nodded, looking at the ground.

"I know... I just can' believe he's gone..." he whispered hoarsly under his breath, just loud enough for Elizabeth to hear.

"They don't always go, you know. Not right away.." Alec glanced up at her in confusion. She just smiled softly. "Sometimes, their spirit lurks around, wanting to make sure its loved ones are alright before it journeys to the unknown." Gazing into thin air she smiled wider, rubbing his shoulder and pointing at what seemed to be a clock on the other side of the room, "Arthur could even be here right now.."

"In a clock?" She slapped him softly over the head.

"No, you daftie, all around us." Elizabeth chuckled, kissing him on the cheek and breathing out, "... you just have to see him."

"I don't want to see him."

Elizabeth glanced over at him in confusion, trying to untangle the mind-screwing words her husband had just spoken.

"I want to be over him. I want to live my life with you with no ties or pain."

"There's always going to be pain, Alec-" suddenly, Alec pulled her gently onto the bed, rolling so he was over her, their eyes sharing curious looks into the others'.

"I don't care. I don't care what my brothers think. I don't care about that damn soldier. I don't care about the news he brings."

"That's a lie, Alec."

"I know it is, but damnit to hell I'll lie if it means putting my life to ease. And your life as well." He kissed her on the lips softly, forcing her to take note of the taste of Irn Bru. A carbonated drink the people used to get rid of hangovers. "I want to make a new family, Elizabeth. You and I. We can start our own family."

"A family?" She blinked with surprised, scootching up and slightly away, "children?"

"Why not?"

"W-well... I don't know. It's just... we're so young Alec... why don't we wait until we have experience to raise a child."

"Bollocks to experience. I know you'd make a great mother."

"_Alec, I'm not ready to have kids._" She said a little more sternly, eyeing him with not a smile in sight.

"Alright so maybe not now. But someday." He smiled gleefully seeing the situation turn from desperate and broken to an accepting, loving nature. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself but as he basked in his wife's forgiveness he frankly didn't much care.

Suddenly, his body went ridged, the air turning thin as the faint sound of music filtered into their ears. As she lay beneath Alec, her eyes studied the change in his features, the quick thoughts that zoomed through his head, possibly even memories with the dialation of his eyes and the piercing of his lips. _Oh no.. _she mentally groaned. With all the drama and escalation that had occured over the past twenty-four hours, not a single thought had returned about the soldier and his disrespect for the manor rules. She heard the springs release on each side of her, and her husband's presence, tense and fuming lean away when she lunged upwards and clenched her fingers upon his shirt. "_Alec." _She warned, eyeing him through her thick specs. He glanced at her, flashed another look towards the doorway and then back. So decisive and hesitant on what to do that she finally just stood up, cradleing his cheek with a gentle palm. "Darling... please... you don't need any more judgement on your shoulders." Smiling, she softly pushed Alec down onto the bed, "I'll go speak with him. I have a few words I'd like to get off my chest as well." He understood. Maybe a little more so than before since the imprinting of Angus' fist on his jaw. And for at least the moment, Elizabeth felt a great relief release from her bossom. That she could finally help her poor husband.

As she left, she lingers her finger and a careful look in the doorway, nodding to him to assure everything would be alright. Of course, she was quite certain that quesitons raced through his mind right now as well as caution of letting his wife visit this American alone. But all the while, it made her proud that he listened to her and sat still, obedient to her wishes. As she travelled down the hallway, picking her skirt up enough for the rim to just ghost against the ground, the music grew easily louder. And the awful lyrics became even more present.

_Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do.  
I'm half crazy all for the love of you._

Approaching the doorway, the sight was to behold only because it caused her ears to bleed. Mr. Jones, his face to the window, hair a mess, and only in his undergarments had currently decided to strike a clamerous pose while screetching at the top of his lungs,

_"It won't be a stylish marriage,  
I can't afford a carriage;  
But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built  
for two!"_

The phonograph was loudly boasting the tune in such a way that it only perfected the moment of silliness when Mr. Jones turned around in such a shock that he tripped over the back end of the chest behind him and fell flat upon his back. "Mr. Jones!" She cried out, giggling softly still.

"M-Mrs. Kirkland!" He responded picking himself up and dusting his garments off. "M-my apologies, ma'am, I wasn't expecting anyone to see... or hear for that matter."

"Well, unfortunately we are not deaf. Um... do you mind putting on some clothes, Mr. Jones?" She stated shielding her eyes with an alabaster hand. The American blinked, looked down, blushed madly and then scrambled back over-half tripping on the way- to his chest, throwing it open and slinging some pants on.

"My apologies, Mrs. Kirkland!"

She stiffled a giggle, looking back at him for a long while before turning to face the wall, gloved hands clasped together awkwardly. "I hope you know you're bloody aweful at singing.." This caused him to shine a grin so bright it made her pasty tone darken in comparison.

"Well, didn't get into the military for m'voice, ma'am."

"No I suppose you didn't... and what were you doing when I came in?"

"I reckon I was dancin', Mrs. Kirkland."

At this she burst out laughing, cupping a hand over her mouth and another over her stomach. "That was _not _dancing."

"But o'course it is! Look.." suddenly, the American broke into a small shuffle, twisting his feet and flying his hands about to the beat of the music.

_"I won't be jammed," _he sang. _  
"I won't be crammed  
On a bicycle built for two."  
_

At the ending note of the song as the phonograph trailed off to white noise, the soldier struck a boisterous pose, hand outreached towards Elizabeth and a wink in his eye. The whole sight made her laugh so hard that a snort had snuck through her femininity and she smacked a hand against her mouth and nose in horror, only to make both of them laugh harder. When she came in here, she was determined to give Mr. Jones a good yelling at... but the damn man was so bloody charming that she couldn't get a single foul word out.

"Mr. Jones." She said, forcing the laughter to die. He did the same but with a little more struggle.

"Please, ma'am, call me Alfred."

"Well... _Alfred, _the reason I've made my way down to your chamber is actually because of your music," resting her hands together, her face fell serious, and yet soft as she eyed Alfred's confused expression. "I'm afraid we don't permit music in the house."

"Why is that?" _how rude. You're not suppose to ask why a law is a law you're just suppose to follow them! _she thought to herself but only shook it off.

"My husband dislikes it greatly."

"... That's the only reason?" He stated in a sarcastic voice. She tensed at this.

"Yes! It's loud, obnoxious and there are other personal reasons."

"How is it obnoxious? It's music! It's the best thing in the world!"

"Oh hogwash. The birds are much more pleasing."

"Can a bird play the trumpet, Mrs. Kirkland?"

"I don't really see the need for this que-"

"_Can a bird play the trumpet?_" Alfred pushed, a smirk on his lips.

"No a bird cannot play the trumpet."

"Exactly, the only way you're going to hear that is from music." he spread his arms out as he continued, "it gives you happiness, life, it gives people hope. It gives suckers like me a reason to dance and be happy when there is death everywhere I go." She swore a thin lace of sorrow fell on those words but she was too distraught to say anything or even feel sympathy.

"Well in this house it is not permitted!"

"_Why!?"_

_"I DON'T KNOW."_ there was a long pause, her form upright yet ridgid as she backed towards the door. "... please... in respect for the people living here... and giving you a bed and food and service... just abide our meager rules." Honestly, she liked the music. She hadn't heard music since her last trip to town when the radio was playing a war song in a pub. Even then she had to strain to listen to the tune. But Alec was her husband. If he didn't like music, she had to be fine with that... it was what a good wife would do. And a good wife she was determined to be in order to mirror her husband's ways. Her passion derived from Alec's reputation, for if he were to slip, she enitrely believed that as long as her chin stayed up and her love stayed strong, he would fight for his own moral freedom.

Alfred just stood there, stunned and just a bit hurt. Staring off at the woman as she walked away, her gloved hands held close to her bossom. And while Elizabeth clicked her heels down the hallway, not once did she turn back and apologize or even give a second glance of sympathy, even if it weighed down her heart. Certain that he thought of her as a cruel demon that demanded the most outritious of sacrifices, she did not once hear music for the rest of the day. The only instrument heard being the dinner bell wringing and the floorboards being tapped by the feet of the household.

The table set and the candles lit, it glowed brightly within the dinning room, illuminating the walls and upholstery. Upon the white silken sheet most likely used for ages, sat a boufett of gorgeously crafted food. Sweeping her hands beneath her gown, she sat in the chair, carefully placing a napkin on her lap. Beside her, Alec took his seat right next to Gavan at the head of the table. The handsome man seemed just a bit unnerved however, his eyes darting around and his thumbs twittling. "Gavan?" Elizabeth sounded from her seat. "Is everything alright?" He looked at her, blinking and then smiled brightly in embarassment.

"Oh yes, yes, I'm just a bit dumbfounded on where Peter's run off to..." leaning over he peered down the distant hallway then back. "... normally he never leaves my si-"

"Gavan! Save me!" Came a shrieking laugh as Peter bounded into the dinning room, darning neath Gavan's chair. The poor boy was followed by Alfred, who's teeth gnashed together, his fingers gnarled in claw-like forms, giving a humorous growl and roar.

"Argh I'm going to get you!" He roared again, crouching down beneath the chair in which Gavan oh so awkwardly stayed put in.

"Eh-em.. Mr. Jones-!?" Laughing and shrieking, Peter was dragged out from Gavan's chair, tickled relentlessly by Alfred, and to her fascination, it was only then that he noticed the whole table was staring at him as well as the servants. At this, he cleared his throat, straightened himself and grinned to Peter.

"Right. Well. Like I said, dinner's ready."

"But you didn't say-"

"_Like I said dinner's ready. _Now get your butt over there before I munch it off!" Peter giggled and hopped up a seat away from Gavan, who's eyes she found just a bit somber.

"Alfred! I want you to sit by me!" Peter cried, patting the seat beside him, the seat that divided Gavan from Peter. Elizabeth found this just a bit cruel, the child's ignorance not even knowing the social termoil he's placing Alfred in. But that single thought was wisked away when it seem Alfred hadn't the slightest idea either, scootching the chair out and taking place in it, winking to the boy with a crooked grin. Elizabeth looked up at her husband worriesomely but he was just staring down at his empty plate, every so often searching upwards to when it was serving time.

He really was trying to not look at Alfred, and just the fact he was attempting to not cause a fight, she smiled, turning to her own empty plate. Gavan however was far from smiling, peering over every so often to the soldier with silent annoyance, jealousy pugnant in the air. Thank goodness that Alec had noticed at least this, tapping a finger upon Gavan's clenched hand and exchanging a conforting nod to him.

At the end of the table, Angus finally sat down, beaming upon everyone and seeming to marinate in the social environment of the table without the slightest notion of tension. It was this ignorance that Elizabeth pondered often on, but as she was stuck practically in the middle of this thickening air, she found no free mind to think of Angus' faults. Before another word or action could be administered, Orkney rattled his cart of food out of the kitchen, their metal domes glistening in the off light of the candles. As if on cue, the servants snapped from their distracted manor, aiding Orkney instantly and supplying the table with dinner. When they lifted the dome lids of the platters, a boufett of steaming, succulant food covered the scarlet table cloth. Even now, it still amazed her how quickly and efficiantly the servants could get their jobs done. Within less than a minute, the whole table was happily served and salivating to the freshly corned beef and wild cabbage. Hot dinner rolls, golden and fluffy with a dab of home-made butter melting between the buns passed themselves around the table, filling each plate with an air of coziness. But the oddest part, was that even with this family-like atmosphere, laced with the venemous eyes of the differing, she felt like it was not complete. Like it was only half as marvelous as it could be without the one thing that completed it... music. Partially, she blamed Alfred for these thoughts, with his bloody record player and dancing and singing. She had gone so long without a single thought of these harmonic sounds... and now it's like being relapsed into a bad drug, her ears craving the voice of the soldier's music.

When her thoughts finally left her clouded eyes, she realized then that no one had noticed, and thanked the heavens that they hadn't. Alfred glanced at her from across the table as she struggled to place some mashed potatoes upon her plate, and gave a chuckle. She scowled at him as she tried to continue her battle of food when suddenly he just snatched her plate right out of her hands. When her face contorted in suprise, it softened shortly after in a smile when he grabbed all the food that she wanted and placed it on her plate for her. As he offered her plate back with a smirk of contempt, she just smiled sarcastically back and snatched the plate away from him, setting it upon the table. Alec glanced at the food that his wife now began cutting and then made a glimpse to the soldier's lingering eyes, returning his own to his beaf-cladded fork.

With dinners like these, it's easy to dismiss the awkward silence that persued after the stuffing of bellies rounded to a close. For when the people are eating, their mouths are too busy devouring everything in their paths to speak or talk or look at another. There are those who take little bites so they may speak a paragraph of their day and then return to eating, but this was not the Kirklands. Food was precious, it was a gift that was shared unhesitantly. But as the feasting died and plates grew empty a need of some type of voice made itself apparent.

"So!" She sounded, clapping her hands together and nodding to the table guests. "From what I hear, Rochal's taught Dog a new trick!" The servant boy at the end of the table blinked upwards at the sound of his name, an awkward smile ensueing. The dog had been left in the care of Rochal seeing as it was viewed as being an outdoor dog and a tool to get rid of the rabbits and pests. Because the dog was seen as a tool, Alec told her there was no reason to name him, however, of course Elizabeth found that to be too boring for her tastes, and so the dog... was named Dog.

"Is this true Rochal?" Alec blinked, a brow raising as he leaned in. The boy's smile faded, a bit of fear taking its place.

"Y-yes, sir."

"And what trick would that be, boyo?"

The servant boy smiled softly and scratched the back of his neck looking over at Angus who only returned with a gaze of interest. "to dance, sir." Angus' cheeks grew rosey and he boomed out a voice of laughter.

"Well what are you waiting for then, Lad? Bring the damn mutt in and show us this trick of yours!"

Rochal glanced nervously from Angus, to Elizabeth and finally to Hellen who just gave him a look of pity, whispering something in his ear and then taking on the boy's dishes. With a nod, the servant boy had vanished out the manor, leaving the table to exchange looks of anticipation until his hasty return. When he did return the table the pup, now the size of an adult fox sat in his arms, squirming about from the attention of the table. As the boy sat Dog down, his tailed began wagging furiously, jumping about off the boy's lap and spinning in circles with a joyous energy. Even if it was viewed as a toold, this dog was too damn appealing to keep their laughter down. Rochal smiled at this, his anxiety slowly diminishing as he snapped a finger out to the dog stating firmly. "Sit, Dog."

The dog's rump instantly hit the ground, the poor thing trying it's best to suppress its wagging tail. Another fit of chuckling rewarded the simple trick until Rochal's hand then spun around above the dog's head. "Dance, Dog. Dance, boy!" Suddenly the dog shot up from the ground, spinning and jumping in a circle, his tail flailing about to maintain balance on his hindlegs. It left the table applauding and booming in laughter.

"You know, Alfred's quite the good dancer as well!" Elizabeth stated through her mirth, eyeing a brightening Alfred across the table. Gavan and Alec exchanged looks before Gavan chuckled to Alfred.

"Well let us pray that you're better than the mutt!" His face turning a shade of pink everyone seemed to take amusement in the soldier's embarassment.

"I'm gonna' be honest here. The dog's got moves I don't think I can beat! He belongs on Hollywood, I tell you!"

"How 'bout you show us then!" Alec called out, cackling in the absurdity. With the men hollering and applauding the American on, the soldier finally got up from his seat, awkwardly taking place between Rochal and the dog. Peter scootched to the now empty seat next to Gavan to view the sight with glimmering eyes.

He bent over comedically, asking the dog with an outstretched hand, "You gonna be my partner then?" The pup sat down and pawed at the American's hand with a cocked head, earning a laugh from his fans. "Well hope you can keep up with me, pooch!" Suddenly the American started swinging back and forth whipping his arms out and scuffing his shoes on the floor. Spinning around a few times he performed a few other hand movements before snapping his arms to give it away to Dog who instantly began "dancing" in a circle without Rochal's comands. The laughter roaring from the table was so loud that Angus apparently had fallen out of his chair and the thud could not even be heard. Rochal himself was on the ground in tears as Alec threw Dog a hearty portion of uneaten beef.

"There ya' go mutt, you deserve it!" He laughed, the dog devouring it in almost one bite.

It was this that Elizabeth now found herself thankful for. This family environment. Sure, music was a gift given by angels, sure it may have made this merryment better in many ways... but laughter is an even better gift. Because it's given by those she loves who love her. With a feuding family such as the Kirklands, it made her heart beat warmly at the fact that a single display of laughter could bring the family together. Because even now, the American bowing to the table and the sound of applause ricochetting off the walls, she couldn't have felt more at home, and more at peace with herself. She would choose the sound of mirth over the sound of a phonograph any day.

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

_Finals are finally over! Yay! Means I can write more! Also, gah, sorry this chapter may be a bit boring, I promise the next one will be a little more interesting... ;)_


	7. I Love You

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

Rain. A harbinger of sorrow, of foreboding misery. It tapped its weary drums upon the manor roof in sheets as the wind howled against the window panes. Water painted every glass, stained every brick and shingle, and draped a peppered shadow upon every rug that was consumed by the light of a window.

But it wasn't just pouring, the air it saturated was biting cold. The type of weather that if one were to step outside, their cheeks would flush and their noses would turn pink instantly. Even when the sun had graced them with its presence just a week earlier, when heat tried to cling to the life of Carlisle, it eventually would have to wither and surrender to the frost. When it seemed the heat had blessed the crop and grass, it had, in fact, doomed it to a watery grave as winter claimed the land. Nothing could escape this rain, how it uprooted the barley, the cauliflower, the broccoli and the wheat. The tatties and the neeps and the rasberries, all had been tarnished and ravanged by the nature of winter's gnarled claws.

And as Alec stood there, a cloak protecting the man's face from the bitter rain, he felt his heart still. Because of the late season of the past year, the crop had grown too late, and now winter had thrust itself upon them... relinquishing them of the food that would last them these cold months. As his green eyes scanned the garden, practically a pond of littered plants, his dried, cracked hands curled into fists with the sound of old leather. Of course, they were well-off compared to most of the town, several struggling economically from the war claiming the working men, but it was only because the provided for themselves. They hunted in the woodlands of the east, and fished to the ponds of the west. Rarely did they buy produce from the town markets, and rarely were their faces seen at all. Almost like a lore, they sat upon the hills of Carlisle, looming over the people like ancient royalty in their historical manor. The ages of the Kirklands were rich not in just gold but in history. To many of the town, the old manor was haunted and so too were the Kirklands, yet the kindness of most of the brothers made the townsfolk complacent with their "ghosts". However, it was Alec that the people believed held the ghosts within him, the demons and the ancestors that never died quite right. It was the reason they believed why he drank, why he would lash out in the past. And since Elizabeth came, the gossip told her to be an angel sent from Heaven to guide Alec back on the right path.

"Darling?" Elizabeth cooed quietly from behind the crestfallen harvester who stayed silent in the doorways. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her cheak against his wet shoulder, clossing her eyes and taking a breath in. "You're going to catch a cold. Why don't you come inside?" She could feel his tense muscles, his frown, his hollow gaze out into the mist of pouring rain and sillhouetted hills. Giving a kiss to his cloak, she gently took his hand and guided him inside, closing the door behind them and setting him down to the table. Seating herself at the other end she curled her petite hands into his, taking up his frozen fingers and trying to fill with her love and heat.

"Alec..." She whispered, urging him to look at her in which he did slowly. "It's alright... so we will buy our produce... it'll be alright, you'll see." Bags showed under his eyes and even though she said nothing, the smell of liquor was on his tongue. Yesterday the rain had started pouring, and it seemed the manor had sucked Alec into its abyss for she had not found him until late at night where he was dreadfully inebriated. Perhaps it was the morning after that plagued his breath, but either way, it was a scent she did not want to get accustomed to.

"I know..." he whispered hoarsely then gave a weak smile to her. "I know it will..." Smiling back, she gave him a kiss on his knuckles before moving to the kitchen and making some coffee in the espresso machine. Carrying the mug to her husband, she sat it down next to him and wrapped his hands around the cup.

"Drink. It'll warm you up." She said, taking his cloak off for him and hanging it up on the hook. Giving one last look to her somber husband, she made her way out of the kitchen and towards the living room corridore where the American leaned against the wall. Adjusting his spectacles he glanced at her in confusion and the slightest bit of worry.

"Hey, is he alright?" He asked with genuine concern. Her expression softened and she shook her head, closing her eyes.

"I don't know... I don't know anymore." Rubbing her eyes she sighed, "that garden was Arthur's. Did you know that?"

"I knew he liked gardening and took great pride in it..." He replied.

"Well the garden you see in the back _was _Arthur's. So in turn, Alec takes pride in it... with Arthur dead I think the fact his garden is being drowned at the moment isn't really helping Alec cope..."

Alfred nodded, thinking for a moment. "Do you want me to maybe talk to him? Possibly get some guy-talk in there?" Elizabeth scoffed rubbing her forehead and pulling a stray bang behind her ear.

"No no it's fine. He just needs some alone time right now." She stated beginning to continue towards the living room, taking note of Alfred's sudden turn and alignment with her.

"Oh. Alright, do you mind if I chit-chat with you then?"

"Chit-chat?"

"Oh sorry, right. You're English. _Converse with you in an aspect of the ongoing weather, politics, or other such-_"

"Oh shut up!" She hissed with a stiffled laugh. Alfred's brows shot high and he grinned charmingly.

"Now that is no language for a _lady_."

"And that is no way to treat a lady." She countered leaving both of them chuckling.

Alfred held his tongue for a moment, trying to form his words carefully, "Listen... I apologize about the music the other day. And I apologize even more for not coming to you yesterday." Elizabeth glanced at him curiously. "I guess I've always been kind of a coward to talkin' to pretty ladies."

She gave a soft laugh, pulling an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not really your fault Alfred..." pausing she smirked, "pretty ladies are scary!"

"Ha! Indeed they are!"

"But in all seriousness... I accept your apology. After all, you had no way of knowing the rules, you've only been staying here for what, a few weeks?"

"A week and a half. But even so, it was still rude. And damn, if I ever tell anyone anythin' I warn them to never be a bad guest!" He stated, "looks like I'm eatin' my words!"

Elizabeth smiled as they passed by the living room, Rochal and Peter playing with toy soldiers on the couch. "So what made you enter the military if you don't pardon me asking?"

Alfred's face seemed to beem at being asked questions, his eyes ever so bright and dappled with the shadows of the pouring rain from a nearby window. "Eh, just a long history of soldiers, miss. My pap was a soldier. My grandpap was a soldier. And my grandpap's grandpap was a soldier. I'm pretty sure I'm related to George Washington when you trace it up!- Agh! Crap, there I go again. Sorry if I'm insulting your heritage with Mr. Washington and all! I know Britain ain't too fond of that topic.."

"Your ignorance is quite amusing, Alfred. You do realize that was over 100 years ago?" She said, reaching for an umbrella near the main doors, "mind if we go outside? I find the manor quite stuffy at this time..."

"Ah! Of course, ma'am, lemme' get that for you!" He clammered for the umbrella she was reaching for, struggling to open it up as they got outside.

"You dafty! You're going to get soaked! Why didn't you grab one when we were inside?"

"I'm fine! A little rain won't hurt me!"

"The cold will!"

"Well I say to hell with the cold! I lived in Montanna, I can stand the cold for a little while!" She herself could feel the needles of winter pricking her pale skin as they moved towards the stables, Alfred's hair growing dark with rain and becoming plastered to his forehead. "So why we headin' to the stables?"

"Well, it wasn't really your choice to follow me, but whenver Alec's like this, it comforts me to be with the horses. They're like big dogs in a sense, tend to calm me down." She stated as they entered the stables, the equestrian scent instantly hitting them and filling her with warmth. Alfred folded the umbrella closed once they were happily within the dryness of the barn-like structure.

"I know what you mean. Back home I had a whole ranch of horses! Incredible animals!" This tweaked her curiosity.

"Is that so? How many did you have?"

"Oh, at least twenty or so. Bunch of palaminos and bays. I had one buckskin, he was my main bronco, and damn was he stubborn!" Alfred explained, taking off his glasses and wiping the water from them on his shirt. "But he was real smart! I'd whistle with the corner of my mouth like this," a sharp whistle blasted from the pocket of his cheek, causing the two horses to raise their head, perking their ears with a nicker of curiosity, "and wherever he'd run off to, he'd hurry back as fast as his legs could carry him, and boy was he fast!" Alfred exchanged a smile to her as she placed a hand behind Alec's horse's ear, the black gelding giving a hefty snort. "then I'd give a whistle to him like this, " another sharp whistle, this time piercing the roof of his mouth, causing the gelding to lift his head and winnie at him, "and he'd follow whatever hand move I'd give him. Sometimes I'd tell him to lay down and he'd do it. Sometimes I'd tell him to rear up and he'd do that too. Sometimes I'd even tell him to go get me something from the porch and sure enough, he'd bring me whatever I asked him to bring me."

"That's incredible! He sounds like a great horse," she said in wonder, noting the softening of his smile and the glazing of his eyes. Elizabeth held her tongue and then stated hesitantly, "you miss him. Don't you?"

"Gravely, Ma'am." Walking over to the gelding she was scratching, he stroked a gentle hand down the white stripe on the black horse's forehead. "But I know he's alright. I gave him to my brother before I headed out. Thank God I had my stablehands there or else I'd really be scared. He doesn't know nothin' about horses, I'll tell you that much!"

"Are you and your brother not close?"

He gave her a bemused look, "I wouldn't say that. But he spent most of his life in Canada instead of with me and my Pap on the ranch. He's becomin' a fancy lawyer or what ever they call them. Not really my thing but my brother's got book smarts I don't."

"Well, you'd fit in well up here." She chuckled, "there's nothing but farmers here. Though, we have sheep instead of horses."

"I had a goat on the ranch. Do goats count?"

Laughter spilled from the stables, mixing with the downpour, but even so, the sound was able to travel right to the front steps of the manor, and right to the ears of Alec. If the bitterness of the downpour had not done its tole on the man's temper, the sight of his wife and the laughter she held for the American soldier struck right through him. For a moment, he thought of going out there and dragging Elizabeth by the arm away from him. For a moment, he thought of grabbing his gun and dealing with the problem himself. But neither moment would suffice, for his legs could not move, his feet feeling glued to the steps. For all he knew, it wasn't like they were fancying eachother. She wasn't cheating on him, and it could be of no harm. He let out a breath, forcing himself to believe this and finally moving back into the house, disappearing into the realm of the mansion.

oOo

After a warm, quiet bath, Elizabeth found herself wandering the halls like usual. In many ways it was difficult being the only woman of the manor. She had no paper work to be stuck in an office with, she had no farmwork to tend to, she couldn't even take authority of the training of her own dog. The study corridores were often filled with the brothers, battling over finances while she just continued down the hallways. Well... most of the brothers. She tried to avoid Alec's study, knowing all too well that he needed his time. From the past had she learned...

But when she rounded the corner to their chamber door, it was cracked open. And as she entered, the scent of alcohol hit her like a steam engine, forcing her to cover her nose as she took in the sight of empty glasses and half-full whiskey bottles scattering the room. The stench was so pugnant that she forced herself to step away only to return to the smell with a sorrowful face.

The signs were obvious. Alec had started drinking again. But the rest of the house wouldn't need to know that. Especially not the brothers. So with her chin held high, she gathered the bottles and glasses of liquor and threw them in an old sack found within the wardrobe. The sound of glass shattering grew from within the sack as each new glass was thrown in. Stashing it in the far end of the wardrobe she quickly escaped the mothball-scented area just as Hellen entered the room. The brawny woman glanced upwards in surprise, relieving the shocked expression with comforting smile. A smile she very well needed. "Why hello there, deary." A mop sat in her left arm, the rags at the end just wrung out. " What're you doing in your chambers at this time? Normally I see you scavanging the halls like a wee ghost!"

Adjusting her spectacles she paused, smiling uncomfortably. "Forgive me, I was just needing some peace and quiet..."

"Ah, well don't let me intrude, m'lady." Hellen grinned, about to close the door when Elizabeth suddenly stopped her.

"Wait!" The maid paused, looking at Elizabeth in suprised curiosity.

"Yes..?"

"I'm sorry.. you're... you're probably tired of me asking this. But have you seen my husband? Is he in his study?"

Hellen blinked, assuming her original smiling face. "Well when I mopped the halls outside his study an hour ago, he wasn't in there. So I'm afraid I don't know, lass!" Not good.

"Ah... well thank you anyways." Not good at all. If he wasn't in his study... he could be drinking somewhere. If she couldn't talk to him, warn him maybe of what he was getting into, then what would the manor thi-_wait a bloody second... how could I be so daft? _"U-uh... thank you Ms. Hellen! I must go now, please feel free to continue your work!" She stated, rushing past the puzzled maid and towards the stairs. He was hiding from her. Alec knew all too well that she was there to guide him in the right path, and that's why he hid from her everytime he drank. He didn't want her to help him, he didn't want any of it. And yet here she was, trying to go after the man that she fell in love with. The one she shared vows to. And the one that has taken for granted the very morals she stood for. _What do I do? What can I do?!_ Her footsteps paused, her legs becoming feeble at the racing thoughts and the bitter words she planned on spewing. But at the thoughts of fighting, suddenly her knees locked and just as she fell against the wall, the door ahead of her opened, a figure's eyes shooting towards her instantly, arms outreached to catch her.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth are you alright!?" Alfred's voice cried out as she felt his arms wrap around her. "Elizabeth?"

_Oh bugger me... of course he's here. Of course he's the one to catch me, of course he has to be here when my eyes refuse to cooperate. Damn it to hell! _Her bottom lids were already bright pink, eyes growing watery as she pulled herself away from Alfred and towards the wall. "I'm fine.. really I-I am."

"It doesn't look like your fine.." He said in concern, arms still outreached in case she fell again. Behind him, Angus walked out to see what was happening, his eyes growing curious with sympathy as they locked on Elizabeth's fragile form.

"Elizabeth! Is something the matter, lass!?"

"It's fine! I said it's fine!" Forcing a laugh, she wiped her eyes before tears were able to emmerge, "really, don't worry about me... I just tripped..." It was their eyes that made her feel faint. That made her heart sink down to her stomach. Eyes saw right through her lies, right to her tears and her weak legs. They saw her heartbreak and they saw the worry she held and the _fear _she possessed. It was too much. "Really, I just tripped! why are you giving me that lo-..." It wasn't worth it. So with a turn of a heal, she promptly stomped off into the opposite direction, holding the front of her dress high as she forced her chin high.

"Elizabeth wai-!" Angus held a firm hand upon Alfred's shoulder, stopping him from going after the woman.

"She's not yours to worry about, laddy.."

"So you just expect me to leave her like that!?"

"_Yes._" Angus's gaze, as it was well known for, burned right into the soldier's brain, his height gaining an intimidating advantage over the poor American. Hesitantly, Alfred gave in, looking back towards the distant woman who now fled down the stairs at an alarming rate. He could feel her pain just from seeing that look on her face and hearing her wounded words. Sure they were masked with strength, but that was what she was. A facade of strength but beneath as feeble as a new-borne lamb. Angus was right. It was not his place to comfort a married woman, but it was also not his place as an honourable man to leave this lamb for rhe wolves. Or _wolf_.. in this case.

Squeezing Alfred's shoulder, Angus guided the young man back into his study, spewing something about a fresh glass of whiskey with Alfred's name on it, but the American wanted no part in drinking. He wanted nothing but to aid this damsel in distress that, seemed... to be winning his heart.

oOo

The rain never stopped pouring that day, even when the sky grew dark, its silver curtain blocking the moon into pitch darkness. The lanterns surrounding the outside of the manor and the stables were the only lights that could be seen through the mist and rain. And even then, it was really a mere glow. Elizabeth's mind was like those glowing lanterns, constantly flickering from dark to light, forcing herself to believe in something that was not there. Or at least didn't seem to be. All afternoon, she had hid away in one of the guest bedrooms on the forgotten wing of the manor. Even spent some time in the library, surrounded in her books while she just thought about what to do, what her marriage really meant to her. What Alec meant to her. Now that her mind was racing, she really couldn't recall the last time he said 'I love you' besides the day she yelled at Alfred. That was three days ago. A glance at the clock. Make that four days ago. As she wandered the hallway once more, she rubbed her soar eyes softly, not believing the fact that she was actually counting the days that he had said he loved her.

"Elizabeth... you're only doing this to yourself..." she said alloud. It was a sentence she had been repeating for a long while. "Just go to bed... he'll probably be there anyways... and he'll wrap his arms around you, and he'll hold you close. And he'll put his lips on your neck and you can feel that tickle of his breath and the words 'I love you' on his tongue. There will be no smell of alcohol. Just you and him... in a bed... in your chamber... like a proper married couple." When her lip started to quiver she forced herself to stop, take a deep breath, and continue down the hallway. She didn't want to go to her chamber though. She didn't want to see him because she feared so much that he would be a mess. But even though she feared the possibility, she did not fear _him_, not like the townsfolk did. Elizabeth knew the real Alec inside, she _knew _he was a gentleman past his drunkard wall. But why did that wall have to be so damn thick!?

It was still a bit of a walk to where her chamber was, and it was uncanny how the forgotten guest bedroom seemed more and more inviting. Finally, she haulted at a wooden door, cracked from age. She knew inside was a warm bed, maybe a bit dusty, but certainly not smelling of liquor like her chamber right now would be. Ghosting her fingers along the cold metal of the door knob, she finally turned it and entered. It was pitch black. The scuttering of mice neath the floorboards could be heard as she felt her way around the room, searching for a lantern or light source of any sort. Finding a small box of matches, she ignited one, revealing not a bedroom, but a storage room, and a small staircase leading to another door at the back. Angus' chamber was built like this as well, so she knew that the door only lead to the proper bedroom.

Breathing out a sigh she reached for the second door, but just as she turned the knob... that smell hit her. It was faint, but it was there. A presence loomed behind her, and her muscles tensed. She could feel hot, putrid breath reaking of alcohol breathing upon her neck. "Alec..." she whispered, her voice catching as he pressed against her, pushing her against the door as his hands traveled around her stomach. "Alec... please... it's me your wife.." suddenly the auburn-haired man turned her around quite roughly in which she stared up into his eyes with wide-eyed distress. Her hand slipped, and the door swung open, causing her and Alec to fall to the floor, her head smacking the creaky wood. While her skull throbbed, it didn't stop Alec, his words inaudible as they mumbled into her neck. She could feel his arousal against her leg and she tried kneeing him in the stomach to try to get him off her. But he was too strong. Her soft kicks and pushing grew into lashing and writheing upon the ground to get him off her until his firm hands slammed her wrists to the floor. Alec got ontop of her in a way so she was pinned, unable to move. "_Alec! Please! Remember me! I'm your wife. I love you. Don't you know that?! I love you!" _This wasn't Alec. This was a demon within her lover's body. Her lover's strong, burley body in which made it impossible for her to move. She could feel his gritty nails digging into her skin, his grip staining her alabaster flesh blue. "_Please! You're hurting me, Darling! Alec!" _In one savage tear her dress was torn from her as a hand hungrily groped her breast, wrists still pinned by that one mighty hand. She wanted to scream. Elizabeth wanted to just wrench open her mouth and shriek and scream and thrash until someone would hear. Until someone would save her. But if they caught Alec doing this... if they knew that she was in trouble... they would do horrible things to Alec. After all, it wasn't like he had any control at the moment, his mind was warped into this drunken savagry. _The real Alec wouldn't do this. He wouldn't-_ she cried out silently, tears streaming down her face as she felt him...

She could do nothing. If they threw him out of the house, if they locked him in prison, what would she be able to do? Could she stay in the house still with their eyes knowing their brother defiled her? She couldn't possibly bare the grief of those gazes. But it wasn't just that. The fact that her own husband would be labelled horridly, she worried about him more than herself. And so she stayed silent. Listening to his gruff mumbling and trying to think of anything but what was happening. But his hands were so rough... his touch so violent... even her sobs she was forced to stiffle to keep quiet. And all the while, she thought over and over again of the handsome man in the woods. The handsome man with auburn hair, riding to her rescue on a great, black steed. The man who guided her through the garden, who laughed with her and held her close in the bale of hay in town under the stars. And those stars had glimmered so brightly under them. Their eyes so lust-covered and yet full of love. _His _eyes so full of love.

When it was finished... he was nowhere to be seen. The first door to the storage room was a jar, and the thunking of a trudging man in the corridore could vaguely be heard. And she just lay there, sobbing, violated, and for the first time ever... scared of her husband.

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

_Damn! Merry Christmas! You know when I started this chapter, I didn't realize it was the one leading up to this xD Especially since it's kind of.. gritty for a Christmas gift? Oh well, lemme throw som M-rated angst at you! _


	8. SOS

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

There was no amount of peace that could assure her that everything would be alright. Even with the calm of the day, the rain finally subsiding only to relinquish puddles of mud and slush on the roadsides and now pond-like garden. Even with the birds returning slowly to their songs and gray brightening to just a shade lighter. Even with the laughter spilling from the Kirklands at breakfast, in the living rooms and the studies.

She sat peacefully, gently, carefully. Trying her best to keep composure when Alec walked in the room, his eyes obviously showing pain yet no memory of what happened the night before. And when he sat down beside her, smiling and wrapping his arm gently around her's, she just kept looking straight ahead, not even granting him a glance. She couldn't bare it. The sight of Alec's drunken madness disturbed her mind with anguish, hatred, and guilt. So much guilt that her skin illuminated in bumps at the slightest touch of his callassed, gentle hand. Before he could notice however, she forced herself a tiny glimpse and a forced smile, continueing to watch Gavan and Alfred's panter of the politics of the war. Even when Gavan broke a beer a bottle and challenged the poor soldier to a duel with a fire spade everything seemed subsequential to the bruises that lie neath her silken gloves, the scratches and splinters that littered her shoulder blades below her confining cloth, or even the monsterous headache that caused her brain to pulse violently. In fact, there were times that she would be forced to use a wall or a piece of furniture to support herself from the impending concussion.

So Elizabeth just sat there, an emotionless expression on her face, her lips silently locked and her eyes transfixed on a random spec on the coffee table. The world was simply allowed to do as it pleased, she didn't want to control it any longer, she didn't want to think of how it could be changed or fixed. Cause at this moment, she knew it was impossible to change what was already a change.

Elizabeth still loved Alec, this she knew. But the fear that constantly battled her vows created a war in her mind... and by God was it grisly. She couldn't even return to the forgotten wing of the manor, nor could she even look Alec in the eye without her head acheing and her scratches stinging. When Hellen came in for her daily bath, Elizabeth shooed her off, exclaiming how she could bathe her own body. But it was not because of sudden independence, it was because the bruises that littered her form, especially around her wrists and the inside of her legs, were stains she needed to keep hidden. she didn't show up for breakfast, or eat where ever there were eyes. Because if she were to eat, then she would be forced to remove her gloves. Her form was feeble, her body was weak. And it wasn't just because of the physical injuries, but the mental ones as well.

"Elizabeth?" Came his voice, concerned and loving. Was it a lie? Was she the one making it loving? "Elizabeth are you alright?" He sounded again. When she was thrown back into reality, Alec's eyes were on her as Alfred had paused in worry only to be met by Gavan's fist and a laugh as the Kirkland helped him up from where he had fallen.

"Yes dear... I think I'm going to take a walk." She stated hollowly, raising from her seat and drifting out of the room only to be followed quickly behind by Alfred. She could feel Alec's lingering glare at the soldier's back much to Alfred's innocense. And when the American began questioning her, if she was injured or she felt ill, she solemnly nodded and resumed her walking in silence.

"Elizabeth... why won't you talk to me?" the sentence came clearer than the others, forcing her to pause, "Did I do something wrong?"

Her bright green eyes gazed down at him with finally an emotion of pity. "of course not, Alfred.." she sighed.

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Taking a moment of silence the she rubbed beneath her specs. "Because I don't half know, myself. I apologize, Alfred, I'm honored that you're so concerned with my well-being. But you're better off just not concerning yourself with me." This time Alfred paused, a look as if he had been kicked in the gut on his face.

"Wait, so you're saying I shouldn't be your friend?"

"That's precisely what I'm saying, Alfred." She said calmly, her half lidded eyes hiding the sadness within. "I'm sorry,but... I just don't want you to get hurt" Alfred's face contorted, his brows furrowing and his lips piercing.

"I'm a soldier, Elizabeth, I'm trained to get hurt or at least be ready for it. And I ain't too happy 'bout your silence, but haven't I respected that?" He stepped closer to Elizabeth, about to grab her wrist when she instinctively pulled away, clutching it gently. But he didn't take it as a sign of injury, he took it as a sign of rejection, a sign that broke his heart. "Fine... have it your way. You want me away from you. I'm good with that." And with a turn of his heal, Alfred had disappeared around the corner. As she stood there, below the arch of vinery and ivy leading out to the garden, still clutching her injured wrist to her bossom, she could feel her heart throbbing with pain and grief.

The mist soon settled upon the knolls, surrounding the mansion with the atmosphere only suitable. Soon enough, Alec was missing again, ever since the afternoon glimpse at Alfred's concern with his wife. But the troubled Elizabeth did not search for him any longer, only wandered the halls, stopping every so often to delve into a book that her eyes took in, yet her mind could not process. There was not concentration that could be found in Elizabeth's head, too many emotions were shoving themselves in and trying to take over, creating a shell-like personna of the miserable young woman.

Throughout the day she continued to walk, thinking and trying to unravel these emotions and thoughts that consumed her mind. There was no limit to the guilt she held, that she couldn't stop Alec from the beast within him. And there was no relent to the weight upon her heart at the thought of what he could be doing at this moment. It was times like these that the halls of the manors became so lonesome. For at one time, they were prosperous, the forgotten wing of the building being very memmorable with an unnamable amount of guests constantly hustling through the halls and to different rooms. At one time, the Kirkland manor was a place of festivities as well as buisness, mindless banter of aristocrats filling the halls as well as the sounds of music. In an age where the great mother Britannia was just a small girl, the place was joyous and practically the exact opposite of lonesome or sad... but as that age died, and the years passed. As Britannia grew old in age and her sons grew into men, her era had died out quickly. The rich and the wealthy no longer visited for pleasurable times, they found better places to spend their money than at a wealthy home near petty town of Carlisle. It was inevitable of her death, and Arthur only calmed the family down from it, even Alec. He had taken hold of the manor and swore to run it and bring it back to what it once was, but then the Great War struck... and turmoil replaced ambition.

As she rounded the corner of the studies, her eyes caught a glimpse of a figure moving around the far off corner and the sound of a door closing soon after. She didn't know why, but the urge to follow this being grew to great, and as her hands lifted the front of her dress, she carefully followed after it. The corridore was empty, yet there were only three possible doors the figure could have wandered into. The first one was obviously not an answer from the time he disappeared to the sound of the door, but the second one seemed to be a simple storage closet. The third one however belonged to one of the servants, Orkney to be precise. But she was sure that it wasn't Orkney that held that gate, oh no, Orkney didn't have auburn hair or freckles or a drunken lope.

When she entered the room, she left the door wide open, and was hesitant to enter. Thankfully, the lights were on, and upon Orkney's chest sat a shocked Alec, a bottle of liquor in his hand. "Uh.. Elizabeth, I..." But she just stared at him, more so stunned that he hadn't the she knew that the actual sight of Alec drinking. "I..." And then she just simply turned away and began walking back down the hallway at a calm pace, hearing the bounding footsteps of her husband behind her. "Hey! Elizabeth, wait! I'm sorry alright. But you have to understand, with everything that's happened, I think I have a right to drink." This made her stop dead in her tracks. Firmly, a smack echoed through the corridor, as she hollowly gazed into his eyes, but so shell like was her gaze that it reaked with disappointment. He could feel it eminating off of her being yet for some reason could not tell why anger and hatred followed. The stinging of his cheek however was the strongest of the feelings, it was a like fuel setting off the alcohol that minipulated his mind.

Grabbing her wrist she cried out, being thrown into the room as he closed the door. Her heart pounded in her chest as she quickly got to the otherside of the wall, but he wasn't as drunk as before. Not nearly. "Elizabeth, how can you possibly be angry at me when your off flaunting away with that fucking yank!? You expect me to keep calm when you're alone with him constantly?" His nose was pressed to her's and while his breath reaked of alcohol, it wasn't too strong. She could see the hurt in them. But she was like a dog backed into the corner, pressed into the wall by an angry man that was still a bit loose off his henges.

"Because I love you. And only you."

A fist slammed into the wall a foot beside her head and he screamed, "How can you say that to my face!? How can you lie like that when I _saw you _out in the stables laughing away with him!?" She screamed at the sudden aggression, tears emmerging as she pushed him away.

"I'm not even his friend! He's not an aquaintance he's not anything!-" He grabbed her arms and shook her, tears swelling his eyes.

"I fucking love you and you lie straight to my face-"

"_I'm not lying_-" she screamed.

"_yes you are!" _

_"Why can't you just open your own eyes and see you goddamn prick!" _

She felt the impact of his hand. Halfway through he had realized what he was doing and had softened the blow by opening his fist, but even then it was enough for her to have to catch herself. Everything went silent as she clutched her jaw, her eyes shooting down and tears running down her face. her arms had rings of pink where he had clenched her, her knees buckling to the floor, the soft sobbing the only sound that filled the room.

"Elizabeth... I..." Alec said stunned. "Elizabeth... I'm so sorry... oh god.." he kneeled before her and tried to gently caress her cheek. But as soon as he tried to touch her she flinched away. "Elizabeth... I-I love you... I'm so, so sorry..." tears were streaming now down his face as he stood up and practically fell against the door. "I'm sorry..." he repeated again, disappearing and once again leaving her to her own sobbing. She didn't feel safe any more... it was so easy for him to snap off his hinges, the alcohol only acting as a rust for such. But those hinges weren't sturdy to begin with, not as she once thought. He wasn't the man she fell in love with... so did she still love him? Did she really still think there was some hope within him?

Hours later when her face felt cracked and her eyes were dry of tears. When the stain of indigo upon her left cheek became visible and the bags under her eyes were wounded with sadness, she still pondered those questions. Within the confines of her chamber room, not allowing a single person to come in, she stared at the window for hours, watching the day pass by until the dinner bell wrang. And even then she did not get up. How could she show this face to the Kirkland family? How could she be in the same room as Alec and Angus and Alfred and Gavan. And Peter... the poor boy's innocense would be trashed in a matter of minutes at that table. So she didn't move from her bed. Constantly, the servants would knock upon her door, trying to get her to come down to eat with the family and constantly she would deny them their offer. She told them she felt sickly, that she just needed rest, and so they passed on the message to the bunch downstairs, everyone but Alec and Alfred buying such blatant lies.

When night finally came and there was no more light to stare at outside the window, her eyes diverted to a burning candle flickering in the darkness and illuminating her face. Her husband tried to give her company, talking to her through the door and at the strike of midnight he finally told her he was coming in... but she had made sure he wouldn't. If he could hide away for hours or even days... so could she. At the sounds of a jimmying knob, she stayed silent, never once answering his calls or his obvious distress at the door. And as he gave up, she realized she already had, and this pained her even more.

Her breathing was hoarse from crying, the scent of sadness marinating her and the silence of loneliness following soon after. She had lost all that she cared about. Her love for her husband was as faint as a dying ember, and maybe an even fainter feeling for the soldier was lost with her words of fear. She had no one at this point, no goal, no reason, no way to keep thriving ambitiously. Before, the perfect wife, the perfect woman was her goal, but what is perfection if everything else is so imperfect? Her head had been held so high, her nose even higher, her eyes were sparks that couldn't be contained by the depression of this horrid war. But now... not only have those sparks been caught, but they have been crushed, crumbled, and grinded into a mash of dust tossed to the wind. That pride she clinged to was washed away with her defiled honor. Every part of her felt used, manipulated, and tarnished. Nothing was left but a shell of self doubt and self pity.

Time passed into the early morning, still pitch black outside as were the halls with the creaky floor boards. But her step was light as she finally unlocked the door and escaped her chamber of solitude. At night, the corridores became even more dreary than normal. The candle holders upon the wall glowed and cast yellow on the grey-tone panelled walls. Paintings of ancestry became hauntingly intimidating, casting their acrylic eyes through her very being like ghostly daggers. But she kept walking through this silence, and kept walking, and kept walking. But for once, she did have a destination. Oh no, this wasn't some absent-minded wandering, she had no thoughts to ponder in her mind anymore. She just kept walking and walking and walking. And finally... her eyes saw the stables. Its bright glow and warm sight was to behold, the sleeping horses filling the air with their happy snorts and mirthful grunts.

The knot she tied was tight and firm as she slung it over the scaffolding of the loft. Her movements were calm and loose, no tension or fear within her. Her petite fingers wrapped around a single stool that sat in front of a hay bale only to be moved in position. Releasing her heald breath, she stepped upon the stool, feeling the cold rope rough against her skin and the tension above closing her throat. Tightening the knot to rest on the back of her neck, she took one last breath.

At the sound of the stool skidding across the floor and the jolt of the rope, every horse stirred awake, filling the air with their neighs of surprise.

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

_Really short chapter! Probably because there's not too much dialogue... oh well! I promise this is the last 'all angst' chapter :)... or at least for now..._


	9. The Dog Days Are Over

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

Limbo, from what Elizabath had heard, was a cold and desselant place. Shadows creeping in every corner, eyes peering out behind every contorted tree. And those eyes never belonged to a friend. Her mother would tell her that Limbo was a place where fears of what _could _be out there tortured a victom's unworthy soul, never allowing it to reach Heaven, and yet granting them the disapproval of Hell's gate. As a girl, she would only half listen, always distracted by her father's whittling in the corner not wanting to hear about all the bad things that could happen after death.

The Testament always chastised those who cut their own string with the scissors of fate. And until just now, she had no reason to do so. But the place she currently sat in was cold and made her bones creak under the weighted mist that soaked the blank terrain. _Am I dead? _She thought to herself, looking down yet seeing no legs nor feet belonging to her body. Elizabeth, in a way, lifted her arm, believing that she placed a hand in front of her face... but no hand appeared. A single entity is what she seemed to be, just a floating being of that which once was. _This must be death, how I feel its icey embrace... if only I could've recorded such an experience as this. _But the world of the living was gone. The ship had sailed to horizons unknown relinquishing itself of the tarnished future she could have thrived in.

But now there was nothing, only wondering and curiosity of why her family would not vouge for her holy voyage. Why of all the years of her staying so true to an angelic lifestyle that one slip up would cast her out of the only place she could reunite with her family. With her little brother who died with blood upon his lips at the age of eight. Her mother who died even sooner by her brother's birth. The father she had adored and loved only to be whisked away by the hands of fate through a pub fight he didn't even have a part in. Elizabeth's beloved ones they'd say would meet her at the final gate... and yet the desert of death only greeted her, welcoming her to its wasteland with claws of warmth at her legs. Heat so burning that the inferno took hold of her intangible form, violently causing her to writhe and sending jolts of pain through her being. Had He made up His mind? Had He cast her into the pits of Hell for all of eternity, finally dooming her to her fate? The flames grew thicker and more intense, tightening around her legs until they scorched through, rubbing her rough with cloth... _cloth? _

Now it was her throat that burned. And the fires that scorched it were blazing fiercely in agony and pain, her fingers clawing at it, trying desperately to release her from this anguish only to send daggers through her neck as she could feel her head being jolted left and right until finally it lolled forward and away, the pain fleeing as fast as it had appeared. Her essence was limp, her form taking shape physically yet the world of Limbo fading into darkness.

Elizabeth's ears were granted the faintest sound. A sound so silent that she though it was an unapparent wind. "Elbw" she heard it again. This time taking shape of some foreign language, or perhaps a distant brogue. "Elzbanm" What was it trying to say!?

"Elizabrth! Godit, onr eyes!" Was that her name she heard? That voice, it was so familiar. No, she remembered that voice, his eyes, his smile. It _was _her name he called with agonized lips. "God.." His voice cracked with tears. "_Elizabeth!" _

It was the rain she could hear first. The drumming of it on the roof and all she could think of was '_so it started raining again?' _Then the lantern glow filtering through her eye lids, their golden glares making her squeeze her eyes tightly and then flicker them open, searching the teary face in curiosity. "Oh thank you. Lord, thank you! Elizabeth!" Alfred's arms tightened around her, cradling her head in his meaty hands. Suddenly the soldier pulled away roughly, his grip gentle as if afraid any moment she would be claimed once more. "_What the hell do you think you're doing!?" _He shouted, his voice cracking again, eyes red and wet. "Are you out of your goddamn mind!?"

"Alfred?" She questioned curiously, her voice hoarse not even realizing yet the pain in her neck. "Why... what..."

"God, Elizabeth... why would you do such a thing? Is what he done so aweful that you'd kill yourself over it!?" Suddenly everything flooded back to her. The night on the forgotten wing, her defiled honor, the argument within Orkney's bedroom and the length she'd gone to hide herself away from the world. Her environment became very clear as well. The stool she had used was now across the stables, the rope frayed on the top and a pocket knife to the side of her. "I'm going to kill him... I'm going to plant a fucking bullet between his eyes like the worthless dog he is."

The change in Alfred's voice sent shivers down her spine and as he released himself from her towards the house she screamed out, "_NO! _Alfred no-" Stumbling over her dress she smacked the cobblestone, causing Alfred to rush over instantly to pick her up.

"Elizabeth... damn it stay here... you've had to deal with enough."

Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed out barely coherent words, "Alec... you don't understand... he _will _kill you. Please... don't leave me... you can't leave me." Suddenly she hugged him, pulling him close and clinging to the warmth that he gave her, "Don't leave me alone again. I can't be alone..." His arms fervently wrapped around her, stroking her hair as she nuzzled her head into his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere, Elizabeth... I promise you that." He whispered protectively into her shoulder. "On my ma's grave I swear to you you will _not _be alone." But even as he held her, saying such words, the American could not stand to see the bruise upon her perfect face. The sorrow in her eyes, the ring of death around her neck. Just minutes before he had found her hanging by that rope, swinging with her limp feet and her lolled head, her eyes closed as if in a peaceful dream. He saw her, and he practically fell dead himself. Alfred thought he lost Elizabeth when he couldn't pick up a pulse, and for some reason, some god forsaken reason, he was granted with her life. And he was _not _going to take it for granted. "I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

"I love you, Alfred."

These words came out before she could stop them. Her emotions, like little snakes, had slithered right out of her lips and into the dark. He pulled away slowly, eyes wide as he studied her face. "You... you mean it?"

And now the regret. "Well... I think I do."

"You think or you know?"

Her lips were on his. They were kissing. She had kissed him. When she pulled away, she practically pushed him away, blinking wide eyes and gripping her hair as she realized what she was doing. "Oh my god..."

"You just kissed me..." remarked Alfred, wide eyed and quite puzzled.

"What am I doing!? God damnit!"

"Kissing me apparently.."

"Shut up, Alfred!"

"You certainly made me."

"I said shut up! Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it if someone finds out..." She looked over his shoulder at the manor but no faces peered in the one window that was visible. But as soon as she pulled back, Alfred had pressed his lips on her's, his hands gentle as they wrapped around the back of her skull. Heart fluttering she forced herself to push him away, struggling from his obvious weight difference. "Alfred... no! This is not a joke!"

"I reckon it ain't. Your point is?"

"_My point is _that I just dragged you into a critical situation. One that you won't be able to get out of unharmed in some way."

"And _your point is._"

"_ALFRED_."

"ELIZABETH?"

"Damn it, shut up! If someone hears you..."

"You're the one who shouted first..."

"And I have a bloody good reason for doing so. Now please... just..." Sighing she put her face into her hands, carefully not to hit the soar spot of her cheek. "god... what the hell is wrong with me..."

"There ain't nothin' wrong from what I've seen." Alfred stated comfortingly, caressing her unswollen cheek with a finger to tilt her head up. Elizabeth's eyes looked right into his, wide with fear of the future. "Didn't I promise you? I won't let nothin' happen to you nor will I leave you alone. So by my momma's grave, everythin' is going to be alright."

She just stared at him for a long while, trying to untangle the knot that was this man. She could never tell if she could believe him or not, whether he was trustworthy or not, and yet, everytime she was stuck, he'd be there to pull her out with that big, cheerful smile of his. Those warm arms worked by the strain of a weapon. And that feeling of security she once got from Alec. How she missed that feeling. It was like a blanket being wrenched away from a small child, leaving it cold and lonely. She was that child, and how lonely she was. "Alfred... listen... those words... they are just words... they..."

"They aren't Elizabeth."

"They aren't what?"

"They aren't just words. I can see that by how you're stuttering." Suddenly he rased her chin before kissing her gently on the lips, this time, she didn't have the willpower to pull away. But she didn't have the heart to kiss him back either. When he broke the kiss, she couldn't help but savour how good of a kiss it was. His flickered to amusement instantly, "... and blushing.."

"Alfred, I'm married." She immediately growled. "You know that."

"You also tried to hang yourself for your marriage. Ain't marriage suppose to be happy? That don't look like a happy marriage to me."

"Marriage isn't always happy but it's a necessity that I can't spare."

"So marriage is a necessity and love is not?"

"I love Alec!"

"So the rope says. So the bruises say. So the loss of spark in your eyes say over and over again." Alfred's voice raised at this as she flinched down like a chastized dog. "Elizabeth you deserve so much better. Hell, I wish that sayin' wasn't so light, because there's no words strong enough to emphasize my point. Yer goddamn beautiful, you're smarter than any of them Kirklands, and by God, if I had half the courage as you I'd be General by now!" Scootching closer, he took her gently by the arms. "I love you too, Elizabeth. And I know yer afraid of that. I know you're afraid of loving another man and you're afraid of your husband finding out. I also know you're afraid of going against your morals cause they hang higher than good ol' pearly gates." He breathed out, loosening his already ghosting grip. "Life isn't always a decided fate, Elizabeth."

She couldn't believe it. How much his words made since and how desperately she wanted to believe in them. How desperately she wanted to take them in and soak up their meaning and put in the courage he believed she had. But she wasn't who she use to be... and it pained her to think Alec was the cause. "So... what do you think I should do then, Alfred..." The soldier, as if not even hesitating, took her cold hands, and curled them into his warm palms.

"Come with me. Come with me to America. To my ranch. Come with me so I can show you ol' Montanna and you can meet m'brother and you can be..." he paused and she sucked in air, "... and you can be my wife."

This was a fairytale. She knew at the thought of being his wife this was a fictional story he wove with his tongue. He actually thought she should elope. Eloping? Her?! What would Alec think? What would Alec _do?_ What would Angus or the brothers do? The only thing protecting her was their trust and care for her against their opions towards Alec. They've been so good to her and yet if she were to steal into the middle of the night without telling anyone where she was going or that she was going to America of all places... no. It was time for her to wake up from this daydream, from this nightmare.

Her hands slipped away and Alfred's face fell.

"Alfred... I love you... I said those words and I admit you get why I'm afraid... but you're also right about my morals standing high. It was wrong that I kissed you. It was wrong I said those words. And it's wrong that you care about me, a married woman, in that way. So I will ask you... please... " Her heart raced as she could hear his shattering into pieces.

So she kissed him long and hard on the lips.

"Don't let Alec know."

oOo

For the most part, life went back to normal. Only a week later and she was regularly having breakfast as well as dinner with the Kirklands, right beside Alec who had seemed to sink into a silence. Gavan ended up turning his suspician and jealousy towards Alfred into respect and fondness. Often she saw them drinking together in the study hall along with Angus. That might have been caused by Peter's new fondness in Rochal, teaching Dog new tricks constantly in the garden. While Alec hid himself away in shame for what he had done, she felt no fear anymore. Because at night, while she slept in the same bed as a man who took away her pride, she knew that during the day, another man was waiting to love her. After all, a beast cannot attack if it is asleep. But in several, severe ways she still shamed herself for her actions against Alec. Her own husband not even knowing her scandal pierced right through her heart while she kissed and made love to Alfred.

And the American wasn't half bad at it either. It was difficult to remember through the violence the gentle, romantic nights she shared with Alec. The nights of caressing, kissing, and licking. The nights of warmth that grew more and more glorious by the memory... until the haunting chill that occured at the memory of the forgotten wing of the manor. Alec's touches had been tainted by that night and the night in Orkney's room, the fond memories poisoned by his drunk mistakes. But it only gave way to fond memories that blossomed out of those, created by a certain soldier and his loving embrace. Because she was still soar and scraped, the touches were limited, but even so, she could feel his heart pounding in his chest as she layed her head against him. His hands stroked her hair, his lips pecked her scalp, his words would vibrate through his bossom and made her feel so loved and so alive.

Because of him, life seemed meaningful again. There was no reason to wander the halls, not knowing where to go, what to do, or where her significat other lay hiding in a pile of bottles. No need to hide her gaze in shame from the oblivious brothers, knowing that she was keeping so much from them. Everytime she felt doubt, everytime she would relapse into depression's claws, all she had to do was visit the American.

And all her problems would disappear.

Grabbing her by the hand, he would dance with her and sing to her and sway his hips like they did in America. He would laugh and joke and tell incredible stories of adventure from when he was a kid, explaining how his brother would often play his sidekick as they hunted imaginary thieves with sling shots and make-shift bows. That is of course until their mother came out with a broom stick that also acted as a club. He would tell stories of how Arthur saved his life more times than he could count, the glory of the battlefield and the fulfillment of protecting his fellow soldiers... but he never lingered on the subject. Alfred was quick to remind her that the war was nothing to take pride in, that killing held no glory, it was the fact that your country was safe and your men were safe and your brothers were safe and the gun that you held in your hand was the only item that decided life and death. It was either kill or be killed. But soon after he would go into a fit of wild singing again, causing her to laugh, terribly amused by his cracking voice and horrible pitch. Not to mention the ragdoll moves he so hollowly boasted about.

These times that she spent together with Alfred, though wonderful, did not go unnoticed by the house. The servants knew the most, for she could hear them wheeling their carts and cleaning supplies through the hallways, pausing at their door as they were kissing. Angus and Gavan were all too aware of the looks she gave to Alfred and the looks Alfred gave in return. She had no knowledge whether Alec knew or not. At the moment, she didn't care how blatantly honest she was making it, trying as hard as she could to pretend that the problem that was Alec didn't even exist. Of course it did though. She knew this, but it was at the very back of her mind, along with the night in the stable and all the nights that lead up.

All that mattered now was the welcoming smile of the soldier and his horrible dancing. His southern twang and the spark in his eyes. How that spark gave her brilliant chills.

Everything seemed to be going great, like it was some vacation from her real life... until her real life struck back. Hard. It was the same day winter had hit to the knolls, snow floating down from the silver heavens, varnishing ice upon every surface. It was freezing cold, the nipping frost turning one's skin ridgid at the touch. The unfortunate servants were the only ones to go outside, and it was only to feed the horses. In the afternoon, when the ice stopped building and the snow settled onto the ground, painting the land white, the temperatures raised enough for the family to enjoy the weather, at least the young ones. She stood at the window, holding her hands at her bossom as her eyes followed the two children of the house and her little dog bounding through the snow joyously. It brought warmth to the heart that had once grown so cold.

And it went frozen at the soft touch and the guilted voice of her husband. "Elizabeth." He whispered into her hair. She had grown familiar to the scent of alcoholic on his breath, though more and more she found it to be faint. As if he was trying to fix himself. _Hogwash_. She said nothing to him, just continued out the window, her smile wiped clean from her face. Alec's frown was all too evident, and she thanked the fact he didn't make her look at his hurt expression. "Elizabeth are we seriously going to continue like this?" He asked sadly.

"Like what, my dear?" She asked, looking at him with mockingly innocent eyes. His face deffinitely was stiff with ache, and it added age to him. The circles around his eyes were all too evident, the slump in his stature appauling as well as the wrinkles he was getting from constantly frowning.

"Please don't play that, Elizabeth. I can't bare it." She stayed silent.

"Alec.."

Looking at eachother, her husband finally sighed. "I know what I did was unforgivable and wrong and if I could take back any of it I would. But I can't keep going on like this. With you not loving me."

"You're absurd-"

"_Elizabeth please. _Don't play these mindgames. Don't make me feel like you still care when I know you don't." This wasn't expected. None of these words she could've ever thought to be said by Alec. She thought his pride was too stubborn to allow such sincerity. She thought his head too high and his mind too drunk to comprehend the feeling of what he once was... maybe it wasn't all hogwash. No... no she had just grasped onto a life she _knew. _She had just solved her mystery, she had finally found the truth. Now Alec made her contradict practically everything that had happened. No. This is foolish to relapse into Alec's addictive drug... she couldn't believe anything he said... nothing.

"Just... know I love you. I still love you so much. Every day my heart aches with the pain of that night, with the pain of you not looking at me. I had forgotten the color of your eyes, Elizabeth... and it's my fault. My memory's so fogged... and I know the reason why." His voice... his expression. So sincere, so guilt-ridden... so loving. The truth was as clear as a stormy night. Elizabeth couldn't make any of it to be fake or not. "That's why... that's why I've stopped drinking so much. Elizabeth I'm trying to be sober. I really am. All for you, my darling. My love. My angel. My heaven on Earth." her hand was raised by his, her knuckles kissed so affectionately that she couldn't resist that shiver she had felt like the first time she'd met him. But it also didn't go unnoticed, the shaking in his hand. That shaking was not fake. These words were not fake. They were as sincere and sincerity goes... which meant he was telling the truth.

Which means she had done wrong. Had she been tempted by sin? Had she been drawn into the path of evil just from one or two mishaps or unfortunate circumstances? She wanted to tell herself that she was just believing false words... but false words did not exist in Alec's vocabulary. They did not spill like a river of lies from his lips because the truth was all she could hear. Elizabeth's eyes began to burn as she kept the tears down and bile raised in her throat on who was the villain... they both were. In holy matrimony, they both stood at an alter of sin with both their souls tainted in villainy. She could see his eyes staring at her with love, waiting for her reaction when, out of nowhere, Rochal and Peter came bounding up the steps, rushing towards her. Thank the Lord. "Elizabeth! Miss Elizabeth!" Peter cried out. "Something's wrong with Dog! He's acting weird." They each took her arm and dragged her down the steps as she turned and told Alec she would take care of it. Though his face grew hesitant at letting his wife go into the cold to help the dog.

As she was dragged outside, her coat and hat quickly being thrown on, she delicately walked through the snow to the garden. The dark form of the dog could be seen hunched over by one of the hedges. As they rushed over, it became more and more apparent that the children were right; there was somethig deffinitely wrong. Dog's eyes had rolled back in his head, his body shook violently, urine yellowed the snow and his ears were pinned to the back of his sunken skull. Legs stiff and back arched, he looked demonically possessed, and knowing the children's fear, she grasped onto a bit of bravery and reached out to try to calm the animal.

In a flash, pain struck her hand. When she pulled away, the dog had fallen to the ground, thrashing about wildly, legs still stiff as her hand now dribbled with blood. Elizabeth caught her hand as Peter cried out, trying to hide behind Rochal only to be pushed away as Rochal hurried to get help. She only stared at the red that now painted the snow pink, the top and bottom of her hand bleeding furiously through her glove. As she gently took the glove off, throwing it into the snow, she could hear a commotion behind her, by the entrance of the manor. "Elizabeth! What's the matter?!" Alec shouted, rushing over to her and grabbing her hand to examine it.

His eyes. She could see them shift instantly at the sight of blood. Of _her _blood. "Alec, I'm fine. Really. I just need a bandage that's all... wait... Alec what are you doing. Where are you going?" As Alec stormed back towards the house, her heart beat rapidly as she reached out to try to pull him back, forgetting her hand was covered in blood and painting a stroke of red down his shirt, yet she held on until he shrugged her off. Tripping over her feet, she stumbled but tried again to chase after her husband only to be confronted by the very worried Alfred. He grabbed her arms gently and looked at her worried face then the dapples of blood on her bossom and dress. Then her hand came into view and he shouted in horror, grabbing them gently.

"Elizabeth! Your hand! What happened!?"

"_Alfred. It's Alec."_

"What about Alec?"

"_He's-_Alec! Stop this!" As Alec came out, the sight of a shotgun in his hand, her eyes bulged from her head in terror. "_ALEC. No! It wasn't his fault!" _Angus and Gavan had come out of the house to see what was happening, Gavan immediately taking Peter by the hand and dragging him back into the manor. Angus gave an unheard order to Rochal, sending the boy quickly inside. This couldn't be happening.

"A dog that turns on his master is no use to me." Alec said gravely, his eyes locked upon the recovering dog, Elizabeth breaking from Alfred's clutches to grab the gun and pull away from Alec. But she already knew the man was too strong for her, and with an easy shove, she was in the snow, Alfred helping her up immediately.

"You don't have to do this, Mr. Kirkland, sir. Think about what them boys are going to ask!" Alfred shouted, trying to aid the situation. But it had already escalated too quickly.

Her eyes closed.

The gun echoed.

She could Alfred's grasp tighten and her whole body flinch at the sound. Then silence. As she sat there in the snow, her eyes opening to a lifeless pile of fur and the stiffened back of Alec... she knew no matter how much she wanted to believe Alec was the best for her... the truth was the truth. And as her husband's eyes turned to her, she could see the look of self-shame in them... he knew he had done wrong... but that was not enough. He would always apologize... he would always tell her he loved her... he would always say he would fix who he was... but the dead dog was all the evidence she needed; he would always say those things-after he had done the wrong.

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

_Really short chapter to really long chapter! :D I think this may be one of the best chapter so far... but that's just in my opinion. Hope you guys like! _


	10. Her Lord's Wrath

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

She easily flinched away from Alec's cautious touch. But the blood upon her hand or the stains around her wrists were no reason, the pain of mere physical wounds was no reason for her constraint. It was like her world had finally been scraped from the grime. Like the earth had been purified with truth and details she had been longing to know for months now. The man before her, his eyes of guilt-of pain from her mistrust-birthed the evidence of her mystery being solved. Her husband was a drunkard. The devil's drink had such a hold around her husband's neck, those green eyes she fell in love with have grown dim, almost grey. His sockets were all too revealing and the bags under his eyes puffed outwards, blushed red. Alec's strong arms and proud gate, the way he held himself, the way he looked.. it had escaped the shell that now creaked and swayed before her. Though his mask wore an expression that captivated her heart and very judgement, it was his eyes that were like the open doors.

For Alec, she could find no love in her heart.

"Elizabeth... why do you look at me like that, my darling?" He whimpered, trying to reach out once more to grab her chin, but she smacked his hand away, liquid eyes striking right through him. Piercing her lips, eyes narrowing, she turned away, fiercely storming off and into the house, leaving the garden a place of rising tension. Alec's mumbling broke the silence, "... I... I don't understand... I.." He whispered quietly, staring wide-eyed off into the distance. Alfred was about to say something when the booming voice of Angus cut through the crisp, dry air.

"You don't understand?! You just killed her damn dog!"

"It... It bit her! A dog is no use if it bites his master!"

"It dun' matter, you daft jack ass! You got her that dog!" The American watched as the bear-like man lumbered towards Alec, easily knocking the gun from his hand and raising him with a collar-wrapped fist. "You badgered ol' Geir to give you that fucking dog and you stick its brain fulla' lead?!"

"I was protecting her!"

"_You are killing her_." With a hard throw, Alec hit the snow, sliding away from Angus, his face red and steaming. Alfred didn't even notice Gavan standing at the door, a grave expression upon his face Alec picked himself off the ground. But the sullenness returned, Alec's eyes darting from each and every person.

"How am I killing her!? I love her!" Alfred's eyes flashed.

"Really!? So much so you would hit your own goddamn wife in the face!?" Alec's face paled white like the snow as veins popped from Angus' head.

"What'd ya say, laddy?" Angus growled, his eyes narrowing fiercely on his brother.

"You hit her, "Alfred continued, "You hit Elizabeth. And this ain't the first time either, is it?" Alec's face contorted in frustration. He was a savage dog backed into a corner.

"This is none of your concern, Yank. Now shut yer' trap or I'll shut it with my boot!"

"_You will do none of the sort_." Angus snarled, the vigour making even Alfred jump, "Christ help me, say this en't true." the massive brute growled, shaking his head, glowering eyes of fire to his brother.

Alec stepped back, his whole state of being on deffense shoulder broad and muscles tense. "... it's true... my mind was bevied and... and we got into a fight. And I didn't know what happened... I... I didn't mean it! I swear!" Alfred could tell it was taking everything for Angus not to grab the gun that lay in the snow beside him. And it was taking Alfred twice that.

"Alec." Angus finally stated after a moment of eerie silence, Gavan approaching Angus slowly, carefully putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "May the Lord have mercy on you, brother. Cause when this is over, you will pay for what you've done."

"When what is over?" But Angus had already been turned away by Gavan. Alfred was about to say his own part, but Gavan had already taken him by the forearm and dragged him back to the house, leaving Alec alone within the garden. The freezing air was soon tainted by the pitiful sobs of a sinning man.

And while the sound itself rose an atmosphere of sorrow, the sight was soaked into the eyes of its cause. Elizabeth, her form leaning against the hall window, treated like she was born of glass, grew evermore resenting of the life she was doomed. For even though she still strongly prayed to the Catholic God, even though she still had faith in Christ and his creator, often times like these drew her to a bitter state of thought. She had been holy her entire life, never doing any wrong or committing any crime... and yet it seemed the lord she worshipped hated her. Elizabeth had never been given a breath from life's treachery, and never did she expect the world to be so cruel.

Her father always told her to keep praying and doing riteous deeds so in turn, God may give her his compassion. That she would be answered.

No compassion nor answer had been rewarded.

And she was tired of praying.

* * *

**London, UK - 1903**

"Where is mommy?" The man before the small child solumnly looked down, answering her sad, little voice, "she's dead en't she..."

"Now, Elizabeth..."

"She dead. She cold n' dead." Tears swelled at the corners of the little girl's eyes as her red nose sniffled and she struggled to wipe them away. "That's why your cryin'. That's why she en't come home!" The man crumpled down on one knee, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a warm hug, her own tiny arms wrapping around his neck.

"Elizabeth. Sometimes people have to die to let others live in their place." He said hoarsly, holding his daughter close to him, "sometimes the Lord is bloody funny with things like that."

"But she been faithful to the chooch n' everythin'! She a good Christen she is!" The small, dirt-smudged child sobbed.

"Right she was, my littlun', right she was. But God is selfish sometimes and wants the gooduns with him upn' heaven. She be doin' good with wings n' all. You believe me, arright?" As Elizabeth pulled away, her big green eyes puffy and wet, he wiped away a tear a big, cracked finger. "'Lizabeth... you gonna' have to be Mummy now. Alright? You gonna 'ave to be the woman in the family."

"I dun' wanna be Mummy though. Mummy needs to be Mummy." Suddenly the shack door swung open, the whistling of biting wind and snow fluttering in through the open door.

"Ferghus, he's alive. They 'avem warmed up in St. Francis." The man at the door was a bit of a tiff. A top hat sat on shaggy blonde hair, freckles dappling his cheeks with dark, mudd-hazel eyes full of the same sorrow as her father's. Tears stains confirmed the grief.

"Thankye' Clavus. Keep yer eyes on Elizabeth for me. An' don' youdar' leave her alone!" He stated, swinging on the jacket at one of the hooks by the door as he rushed out into the blizzard. The fire seemed to give no warmth to the small little shack of the rookery. Everything dripped, everything leaked, and every person was never clean in the soul nor the body.

Clavus was her uncle on her mother's side. A posh little man with a mysterious air around him that left Ferghus untrusting. But his wife's brother was one of the only family members he could share holiday with along with his family. And to his knowledge, Clavus was a good man to have around to help him and the children cope. Of course this didn't last. Two years later he would've been shot dead by Ferghus' hand for touchin' Elizabeth in an unholy way. But Elizabeth supposed that's what poor and suffering does to a man. Driving them mad until their last bit of humanity was wringed from their mind.

That night, when one of the worst blizzards hit the rookeries, the people doomed to live within the clogged, factory-fumed air squeezed together inside their limited space and heat. Fires were cast on furniture to keep warm if a fireplace did not exist. Smoke from the factories and houses mixed with the clouds so soot floated down with blackened snow. That was the night Elizabeth's mother had died when she was only five years of age, and her baby brother was born. Gabe wasn't exactly a healthy baby. Still-born, the nurses thought he was dead, but not ten minutes later he had been granted life again, kicking, crying and screaming. His body was fragile, often not getting enough food from the lack of eating. Every time Ferghus tried to feed him a below normal amount-for it was all he could afford-Gabe would only puke it back out. He was skinny and lethargic but Ferghus' words had touched Elizabeth that night, and ever since, she stood by her brother's side, helping him up when he stumbled. But even her strenghth wasn't enough.

"Gabe! Come on!" She hollered, sprinting bare-footed through the snow-lain streets. Pausing, a hand placed over her brother's heart she watched through a brand new pair of specs as a carriage rolled on past her. He gave a dry cough and sniffled. It wasn't uncommon for children to get a cold this time of year, but it still worried the family whenever Gabe seemed ill. He was just so tiny and weak... they didn't know what a minor illness would do. Grabbing his hand, Elizabeth trampled through the street, splashing mud up her legs and soiling her dress even more. Quickly, she squeezed between two buildings, lifting her dress to climb over a fence while she helped her brother climb over after her. This continued through several lots until finally a small shack between two worn-down buildings grew visible, as did a man bent over from work.

"Daddy!" Gabe cried out happily, stumbling after Elizabeth as Ferghus put on a pained smile, crouching down and opening his arms wide to wrap him in.

"Daddy, look. Look what we made today!" three coins glistened in her dirty palm, a smile beaming on her face. "I brushed a gent's shoe and he gave me this. You think this'll pay for some bread?" Ferghus laughed and picked Gabe up in one arm while hugging his daughter.

"Fifty more an' we can pay for a pony!"

"Really!?" Ferghus boomed out another laugh, brushing her daughter inside, and setting Gabe down on the chair.

"You dun worry, now, 'bout money, Elizabeth, y'hear me? Let yer ol' da' worry about it."

"But you work so hard... and Mr. Donnalwytt dun pay you nuttin'."

"He pays me enough to keep a roof over ye' pretty little head. An' it's _doesn't _pay me _anythin'. _Mind ye' grammar."

"Daddy!" She giggled sitting up on Ferghus' lap. "Nunna' the other children have to speak tiffy."

"It en't speakin' tiffy! It's proper English."

"I sound like a toffin'! Y'know, one of them wirey snakes all slitherin' around en' such?"

"One of _those, _little lass and as a mattero' fact I do! I work for one of 'em." Elizabeth stuck her tongue out swiping a humorous face to Gabe who grinned deviously at his sister's foolery.

"I en't gonna be a princess or nuttin'... I dun see why it matters none."

"I'm sorry, I can't hear ya'."

"_Daddy. _I'm _not _gon-going to be a princess or nothing... _anything."_

_"_Now that's my little lady." He smiled, kissing Elizabeth on the cheek. "An' yedun' know that. Graham may very well be a prince!" Elizabeth scrunched up her nose.

"Graham? That wanker en't got a proper bone in his body!"

"_Elizabeth!_"

"What!? He don't!"

"But he got pockets to feed ye' and keep you fat and happy! You know yer friends's already gettin' married off."

"I en't marryin' until he acts like a proper gent." Ferghus gave a booming laugh.

"That'd please me plenty but yer mother would have a fit, God rest her soul." As his laughter died to the sound of Gabe's coughing he frowned and got the small boy a bowl of water. "don't choke on it, boy." Gabe nodded bashfully, drinking it in slow sips between coughs. Ferghus grimaced then turned back to Elizabeth, "I must get back to work. I'll be stayin' a later shift tonight. Are you alright her' by yerself?"

"Yes daddy." She rolled her eyes, "I am fourteen after all!"

"Right you are." He smiled, cheeks rosey as he grabbed his coat and sack, waving goodbye before emptying out the door. But just as he disappeared from sight, the chair clattered against the floor board, Elizabeth's eyes darting to her brother's coughing form. His tiny body curled into a fetile position as he clasped his stomach shaking and coughing.

"Gabe!" She cried out, rushing to her brother as blood mixed with saliva dribbled form his lips. "Da... Daddy!" Turning quickly she raced out, dodging traffic as horns blasted in surprised. Ferghus swung around at the end of the sidewalk, eyes wide as he rushed towards Elizabeth.

"What in the bloody hell are you thinkin'!?-"

"Daddy, it's Gabe! Sometin's wrong with Gabe!" Ferghus' eyes shot upwards towards the shack, holding onto his hat as he rushed back into traffic, quickly followed by Elizabeth as he stormed into the house. The small boy was coughing viciously as Ferghus cradled him in his arms and rocked him back and forth.

"Shh, shh, Gabe. I'm here. _Elizabeth, get the doctor._ _Hurry."_

She could remember the face of her father when the doctor diagnosed her brother with cystic fibrosis. In the rookies, it was a death sentence among men let alone young, fragile boys. He had explained to her it was hereditary, and though it did not affect her mother none, her grandpap and his grandpap before him most likely had it. Elizabeth was only just a teenager then. She didn't have a single clue what money really meant nor did she know how expensive the medicine was that would only prolong Gabe's life. Most days, the small boy spent his borrowed time neath three loads of covers, the sound of phlegm-netted breathing making her skin crawl. The worst part, was that after that, her father never took lunch breaks, nor did he seem to even sleep. Often, she would hear him come home late at night, not even daring to go to their small little bedroom cause he would collapse from exhaustion right next to the fire. He worked every night, even took side jobs when holidays came around to help pay for the medicine... but it wasn't enough. Money and strength matters not to death's hungry eyes.

In the fall of 1912, a new grave sat beside her mother's.

The sorrow of her brother's death hit Ferghus hard. Though he continued working to pay off the debt her brother's medicine put them in, he never once stopped reminding her the lord's watching evey movement. He never hesitated from taking her to church every Sunday nor did he stop blaming himself for not having enough to put her through school or even give the originally agreed-on payment for the wedding between her and Graham. She wasn't too sad about that one. But even so, while her father stayed true to his morals and morals of God, others strayed easily, the downward spiral of the rookies sucking them in. In one week, she had counted fifteen dead men just in the road sides alone. The alleys made her afraid because they reaked of corpses.

One night, the door never opened. She waited through morning and night of the next day, and the next day she waited again. A copper showed up outside her door and they asked if anyone was home with her. When she replied no, they told her her father was dead. There had been a pub fight and one of them carried a gun. Apparently, aiming just inches off really was a big deal, because it hit her father coming home from work. Plunged the bullet right in his heart. He didn't die at the scene, but only hours after they declared him dead and lowered him into the ground just like that. It was only by chance that one of the factory workers had talked about a daughter to the coppers, telling them to check his house.

Her family had been killed off entirely, orphaned at the age of fifteen. A horrid age to have no parents at; no one wanted to adopt an urchin teenager. At times, she saw many her age in her position selling their bodies... but she didn't much like the idea of selling her soul with it. If anything, she wanted to live in her father's light, take pride for what he stood for and what he believed in.

The orphanage was in North-East London, and the sisters there taught her how to speak, act and praise herself as a lady. Taking that to her advantage, she mustered up enough courage to go to the bank, knowing her father had left some money for her. She _knew _he had. But the man, stout with a pug-like face told her there was but ten euros. "There must be more. _I know _there's more!" She had shouted. Grabbing the money as she was thrown out the door, she realized life was hard for not only the men or the poverty-stricken families, but for the women as well. For the women, it may be even worse. It was like society expected her to show them the inside of her skirt. Like she would just give up and continue the cycle of the damned.

But Elizabeth never did. Instead, she traded lockets and pocketwatches, family heirlooms for as much as they would go. She hitched a ride with a friendly merchant to the next town over until he took her half the way agreed upon, stole her money and continued along his merry way.

She did not give up. Oh no, Elizabeth continued walking until her feet were blistered and cracked, until every bone in her body ached. The road soon disappeared as the countryside grew more open. Vast and empty knolls greeted her until finally a patch of woodland welcomed the seventeen year-old with gnarled arms of dark, misty swamps and mud patches. At first she was hesitant of going in, but there was no field to cut through and she figured it was faster to keep walking straight. But the forest's treachery was unknown to her, and with a simple screetch of an owl, she was sprinting. Her legs trudged through mud, the branches and vines so slimy and lush that she coudn't get a grip, until finally the forest wrapped around her leg and didn't let go. She tried to free herself, kicking over and over again, even tried digging her way out... but there was no use. Covered in cold, damp mud, she finally gave up, believing she was to die.

And then the most beautiful sound gifted her ears as both fear and hope swelled within her.

The sound of a horse's hooves in mud.

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

_Surprise! Everyone loves fillers right? :D _

Here's some funfacts about Roses of Picardy!: 

Elizabeth = The English Language

Gabe = The Gaelic Language

Ferghus = Ancient Celt

_This is probably one of the most British chapters on fanfiction . net ... o_o hope you guys don't kill me for the filler xD_


	11. Noel in Hell

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

_Whence comes this rush of wings afar  
Following straight the Noel star  
Birds from the woods in wondrous flight  
Bethlehem seek this holy night  
_

The nights, with burning candles glittering in the dark streets, stirred this air of happiness to the people. These were the nights, that despite the visibility of shivering breath in the air or the cold knives that dragged down one's lungs, warmth beamed within each person. With the smell so acquainting as the smell of pine, the sight of families hauling their foliage treasures to their shacks and houses grew ever more common to the snow-painted town.

And the music. God, the music was glorious and beautiful, making Elizabeth feel just a little hopeful in her bleak situation. The instruments that sang from pubs, homes and churches, the voices that merged to the silence filled her ears and warmed her heart. For every person, no matter their situation, had at least one happy moment during the holidays. Whether it was with family or friends, no matter the religion, a relaxation from the hardships of life around a fire with the singing of holiday melodies always made life a little more bearable.

With everything that had been happening, she needed it. She needed the merriment from the Kirkland brothers, and she wasn't the only one. With the death of Dog still very much apparent in the household, Rochall and Peter had been depressed, still trying to figure out what had happened. In a way, she felt like they blamed her... or perhaps she blamed herself. Either way, everyone needed a little bit of Christmas. And as it grew by the months ever closer, the shifting of atmosphere became extremely noticeable... but not all of it was good.

It was only to be expected that Alec would continue drinking, or dip into an even worse craving for alcohol, but never could she expect him to completely disappear. He never came to dinner nor brunch nor breakfast. Alec never showed his face in the main family rooms and never once slept beside her. And while the nights were cold, alone in a bed made for two, she felt hollow. Not like before where there was something missing, but it was more like she had evolved into a shell she can no longer manage. Her existence had grown from a small, frightened girl, new to the world of noble drama, to a complete immortal soul-a ghost if you will-of that same girl. There was no doubt in her mind, there was no sadness or guilt. Only an air of dread for the coming future. After being hit with so many unfortunate events, her mind had finally wrapped itself around the conclusion that her relationship with Alec was going to end. Whether that would be in a good or bad way, she could not tell. But Elizabeth knew one thing; Alfred was there. He sat by her upon the sofa, ate with her at dinner, and made her feel not so fragile and alone. And when the house asked questions of her bruises, Alfred would talk for her, and never would he call Alec out.

"Alfred! What on earth are you doing!?" She cried out humorously, watching the foolish American try balancing on a stool to place a crudely-made star on top of the Christmas tree.

"A Christmas tree is not complete without a star, Elizabeth!" He retorted, finally getting the star to stick on the highest branch then half stepping, half tumbling off the stool. "tell me you Limeys know that."

"You are truly a foul man, Mr. Jones."

"Well I do try, Mrs. Kirkland." sweeping his hand in front of him, he bowed gracefully for her, playing a wink as suddenly the bell sang across the house. They shared a look, before Alfred quickly made his way to the door, glancing out the peek hole before hastily unlocking the door and throwing it open.

"Mr. Lieutenant Jones, sir?" A stout man asked cautiously.

"That is I." Alfred replied, his lips piercing.

"There is news from the battlefield, sir. You will finish your leave on the twenty-eighth and return to your duties immediately." Her heart cracked in two. The look in Alfred's eyes, she's seen that look. In fact, that look could be claimed by the very man she was wedded to- the look of utter hopelessness.

"Are... Are you sure, corporal?" his voice quivered in a grave tone. "My leave was suppose to pass to the New Year."

The messenger looked up at Alfred quietly, licking his lips before stating, "in all due respect, Lieutenant, times are changing. Odd things have been popping up all over the battlefield. The Brits and the Huns have created an armistice in the middle of no man's land! Having parties in the middle of a war zone, playing football over the very ground of their fallen. It's like every man has lost their whits, sir. We need some sane minds back in the field."

"Corporal, from what you tell me, it seems like the men are finally gaining some sanity. You talk to me of peaceful times, how in God's name can you possibly tell me that it's wrong to take a time of holiday leave from the bloodshed and share drinks with the enemy?"

"Because in two weeks, we'll be killin' them all, sir. So what's the point in makin' friends?"

"So we can honor them in death, corporal. Have some respect for the men you kill. And we can only hope they do the same."

This man, his sudden lack of foolishness, the joyous, loving nature completely scraped from his eyes. In that instant, as she stared at him quietly from the side, she wondered what the war had done to him. What kind of things he had scene what kind of tragedies he had bared the hell of witnessing. But then she really thought about it. What would it be like to lose a best friend right in front of you? To see him lying there, his life bleeding out of him and nothing you could do but cry and pray for his safe departure to heaven. To think the handsome lion that adorned the halls, so proud in his divine features had been dragged down to death by a hidden bomb. Alfred had to watch that. He had to come to the realization that he could not see Arthur any long, he couldn't talk to his friend, he couldn't share drinks with his comrade in arms. This man that makes himself to be a fool, this man who acts like a boy raised in a small town with nothing to worry about but the finances of every day life, has been to hell and back. He's finally gained safety within the walls of this mansion and now this soldier, this ignorant, naive, messenger of hell wants to send him back.

"No." An uttering came from her voice unexpectedly. Both of the men gazed at her with confusion as Alfred frowned. "No, you can't." There it was again. "Alfred, please... don't go back. You can stay here, I'll talk to Angus, I-" She was starting to get worked up, her chest heaving, her heart racing, she could feel her blood pressure boiling to a level of uncertain measures.

"Elizabeth, go si-"

"Please, y-you can't! You d-don't have to go back to that death yard!" She was making her way towards him when he grasped her arm gently and looked at her with a concerned expression. "A-Alfre-"

"Elizabeth, sit on the couch, I'll be there in a bit. It'll be alright. Trust me."

"B-but Alfred-"

_"Trust. Me." _His eyes were so calm. So gentle as they gazed into her own. "When have I ever been wrong?" Piercing her lips, she nodded hesitantly, and despite every fiber of her being wanting to slam the door in the soldier's face and take Alfred far away from any sort of death, she sat on the couch like he told her to. Like the woman she's always striven to be by being a wife to Alec.

Alfred shortly after shared a few more comments with the soldier before sending him on his way and returning to her upon the couch. Resting on the arm, he sighed, looking at the fire, the flames burning within his eyes. They both stared at that fire, the beauty of it licking at the chimney in its heated dance. Neither of them spoke, both trying to find the words to do so. But after a long while, they both came to the same conclusion... Alfred had to go back. It was his duty to his country, and there was a war going on. She wasn't a fool. She heard the number of losses on the American side. And she knew because of that, Alfred would have to serve his country once more and pick up his gun... if only she just had more time.

"... Alfred." He glanced over at her, silent and hesitant.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" Placing a hand on his lap, she leaned upwards and kissed him deeply on the lips. It was a long kiss, illuminated with genuine concern. Her hand found its way closer to the inside of his leg, placing a dangerous amount of pressure. He broke the kiss with a soft gasp. "E-Elizabeth..?" Alfred's face was a soft shade of pink as he glanced around. "We ain't exactly in private ya' know..."

"I don't care.." she hissed, returning to her seducing movements. Alfred flinched away, wanting oh so badly to give in.

"You will though. Y-you will and I'm sorry, you don't need that right now."

"Alfred. I'm tired of playing good all the damn time. I'm cheating with you aren't I? What's a little more and a little more and a little more?"

"You're turning a foot hill into a mountain. Hell, this was already a mountain to begin with and you want to keep going?"

"_Yes I do._" He gazed at her with shocked, blue eyes as she dipped her head low. The burning of tears streamed down her face and she could feel her eyes red and soggy. "I do... because... because I know that you're going to be dragged off in the next week... and I'll never see you again. You can't control everything Alfred. So... let me just enjoy the time I have left with you..."

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I can't do that."

"And why not!?"

"Because this isn't you. This is the rage speaking inside of you. Elizabeth, look at yourself and where you are. You're in the living room, the main quarter of the house that the family visits. You are in shambles trying to seduce me in ways that are also unlike you." He picked her up and caressed her cheek as he held her close, "... no you can't be perfect. But that doesn't mean you should degrade yourself either." A truly strange man indeed...

Wiping the tears from her eyes she sniffed and glanced at the tree that perched so proudly beside the fire. "... it's beautiful, Alfred." she stated quietly before leaving Alfred on the couch, "I'm going to go to bed..." the American nodded gravely, his eyes searching the woman as she disappeared into the darkness of the house. As she turned up the steps and down the corridors, the numbness of her mind pressing everything to the back of her skull made the world so unapparent. As if she had revisited the state of limbo in her mortal body.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a hunched over man on a coffee table outside the studies. At first, her breath caught in her throat, the scent of alcohol bringing back horrible memories. But as she forced her heart to calm, she realized that it wasn't her husband that was perilously leaning on the coffee table, it was someone she never thought could be seen in such a state.

"Gavan? Are you alright?" Rushing over to him, she helped him to the floor. His eyes were glazed over and red, the bags under them prominent. "Gavan what's wrong?" She brushed the bangs out of his eyes as he mumbled inaudible words. "what? I can't hear you?"

"He's taken' 'em. Her's tikin' em aweh'."

"Who's taking who, Gavan?"

"Angus! The blurdy mud-pie's turkin Peter away!" Her face paled as she helped set Gavan up right. The gent was so unbelievably suave, so in control of himself, that now that she saw him in such a poor state of sorrow, the shell of the man he once was.. it was hard to keep her own feeling under control.

"W-why."

"Cause o'yer bloody husband! Dat's why!" Loosely swiping away her hand. Poking an accusing finger at her collarbones he shouted, "I's his bruder! I's his gerdien. No cow in London cen' give Peter what h'needs!" Gavan choked on a sob, "I sed Is protect him I did! I continue to pertect him too! I's de only one who can!" Elizabeth stared on, wide-eyed at the crippled gentleman. She had no words that could fix what had been done by Angus or her husband... not even her.

"... let's get you to bed, Gavan..."

"Oh piss'ff y'mangy, skank!"

"Come on, Gavan.." Helping him off the ground, she turned off her ears to any insults he said. It was the liquor, the beast inside talking. And like her husband, that demonic beast contorted a kind man's mind and words to that of its own nature, leaving the person in a cruel, drunken stupor. But she's already delt with this before. She's already helped an alcohol-soaked man to a safer place. And she only prayed that Gavan wouldn't be like Alec and fall into the pit of his own bile.

Finally making it to the brother's bedroom, she layed him on the bed and tucked him under the covers, Gavan's eyes following her silently, even when she turned her back on him. When Elizabeth faced him once more, though, his face was soft with the expression of sleep. And everything was at peace.

oOo

Admittedly, Angus had made the right decision moving Peter out to the nanny in London. With the house growing in an eerie chill and every rumor having the possibility of being truth, there was no where to be truly "safe". And with the abuse of alcohol defining such problems, this was no place for a child.

On the day that Peter reluctantly said his final goodbyes, Elizabeth watched Gavan's face hold stone firm, not a smile to be found. The same day, she found out he had enlisted himself into the army, apparently already discussing this with Alec and Angus. A day after that, he disappeared from the manor during the night. No one asked questions, no one said anything. Gavan was most likely the most sane man of them all, so if he had his mind set on one thing, they trusted him. But as far as Alec went, she still hadn't seen him too often besides the rare glimpses in his study or in Angus'. Sometimes even in the corridors the elusive man would shrink into the shadows at the sight of Elizabeth. At least every time she saw him, he appeared sober. At least that.

But it didn't make her any less uncomfortable. He had still violated her, hit her, done horrible things to her and couldn't control himself. The past was still fresh and forgiveness was not in her likings at that point... especially not with Alfred. It was funny really, how her feeling had seemed to completely jump from one man to another. Yet the stone on her finger tied her to an undesirable man. Every night, she would ask what type of cruel God He was to put her in this situation. And then she reminded herself the same one who would put her life to such turmoil already.

Though the mansion was silent and mysterious, at the same time, tranquility filled the air as well. Even with all of the problems, rumors, and threats, she found the servants still forcing a smile. She found Angus still laughing in his buzzed mirth and Alfred still radiant and ready to make her day. It was a self-defense system she swore, the way they still grinned even if inside was a pit of unease and anxiety, constantly waiting to see what happened next.

Well they wouldn't have to wait long.

On Christmas Eve, she sat by the fireplace, gazing out the window at the fallen snow. The blanket of white that frosted everything in sight. A cup of tea was pinched between her fingers and as she sipped the hot liquid, a familiar presence made a seat beside her. She continued to drink.

"Hello, Elizabeth." Alec said quietly and kindly in his usual brogue. But he was hesitant, she could feel the fear and guilt radiating off his body.

"Hello, Alec." She finally replied, bright, blue eyes not leaving the window. Elizabeth only focused on the warmth of the licking flames. It felt nice during the dead silence and heavy atmosphere between them.

"How are you doing?" He asked, breaking said silence.

"Fine, fine. And you?"

He nodded awkwardly, "Oh, good. Just fine." Itching his fingers on the top of his lap, he started fiddling with his thumbs, desperately trying to find some type of conversation, "So... I see your bruises are gone-I mean... well.. you look good." Smooth.

In a way, she pitied her husband. Before, she felt fear and loathing... but now... it was like looking at a poor child that had done something wrong. That was desperate to make his parent happy with him again.

"Mm." Was all she said. He looked down. She watched him as his lips pierced and his eyes grew a light shade of red.

"... Is anything ever going to be the same?" Elizabeth paused, then took another sip of the tea.

"You mean like in the beginning?"

"Yes."

"How is your drinking problem coming?" The question was suppose to hit him hard. She sharpened it with every bit of anger she held. And it definitely hit home.

His face fell. "... I'm working on it... I really am, Elizabeth."

"That's what you keep saying, Alec." She said slowly. "And every time I believe you, you tarnish my trust." Her eyes shot towards Alec through her spec, positioning herself to be facing him. "How can I forgive you... _trust _you. When every time I do, you throw it back in my face?"

"Because at one point our love meant something." Her eyes narrowed.

"How can you use that? How can you dare say something like that when I gave you all my love and you soaked it in liquor?"

"I love you still, Elizabeth, and I always will. I'll always want to protect you. I'll always want to keep you warm at night and hold you in my arms." She could hear the desperateness in his voice, the pitiful flattery for something that she was convinced won't ever happen.

"You know, I would once believe you... in a time when you did those things. When you made me feel like the only woman in the world that mattered."

"You are though! I _will _do those things just..." He stared into Elizabeth's blue jewels, finally realizing that she had no respect for him any longer. It was like looking in a mirror to himself. "I see... you're in love with him aren't you?" She tensed as his jaw clenched.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're in love with the soldier... I see you together constantly. There's no way you wouldn't.." As if he was but a shell, he gazed down, bereft. But his eyes were dark and menacing. They were the eyes he held when he was in his drunken stupor... but when she saw him with the eyes of the devil with no alcohol in his body... she was scared. There was genuine fear for the man, re-obtaining the feeling in a way that made shivers run down her spine and her skin crawl.

"You don't know anything, nor what you're saying." She growled. But he had blocked off his ears. He only heard what he wanted to.

"Then convince me I'm wrong, Elizabeth.."

She hesitated, narrowing her eyes in disgust. "Is that what your accusations are all about? Just to use me to forgive you? Make me feel guilty for befriending a man while you lay waste to my tolerance!?" The tables had turned, and Alec knew it.

"Elizabeth, I-"

"You wonder why things can't be the same, it's because you still manipulate me and treat me like I'm but a tool to use. Is that all you ever saw of me? Was I your little puppet!?"

"Of course you weren't!"

"Then _prove it to me._"

"I've been trying! If I kissed you it would feel like kissing a cow- I... I didn't mean that. I didn't mean it like that." Her eyes grew teary, small beads of water perching on the corners. "Elizabeth, I mean it would be forei-"

"Oh save your breath... cause I'm done with it." Before she even thought about it, the ring flew off her finger, slamming down upon the coffee table. '_Then run away with me, Elizabeth. We... we can go to London. Or Ireland. Hell, we could go to Germany for all I care!' _She turned away before the tears fell and her voice quaked, hurrying off towards the steps, the light from the windows painting the manor red. '_Then let's give them no reason to doubt us any further.' _Yet behind her, a heart, heavy and shattered, barely beat inside Alec's chest. His fingers gently took the ring, examining it and remembering all the good times as well as the bad. But the alcohol had corrupted him. Though little was in his veins.. his eyes dilated and his jaw clenched. _'What do you mean?' _Slipping into the darkness of his mind, he jumped from the sofa and after Elizabeth. _'Will you marry me, Elizabeth?'_

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

_I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT... I've just been extremely busy and unmotivated :c Hope you guys can forgive me! I will go ahead and let you know this will be the last "prolonging" chapter of Roses of Picardy. We are finally rounding a close guys! And the last few chapters will be quite different from the rest of the story~  
_

Song: watch?v=GYkPD6fG5Tw


	12. Run, Girl, Run

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

There was a crash, a jolt, a scream. Hard wood of the bannister bruising her back. "_You think you're the victim!? I'm the one having to crawl amongst the shadows, constantly afraid of your eyes! I loved you Elizabeth! I shouldn't be afraid of my own wife. You are lower than me!"_

_"Get off of me!" _She screamed, trying push Alec away as he tried to keep her locked in his grasp. Tears fell from her eyes as she struggled, his own dark and red. They burned with a demonic mask. Did he even know what he was doing? Did he even care!?

"You treat me like this!? Your own husband! Do you really think yer so fucking high and mighty _darling_!?" He spat into her face as she flinched away. _Please someone hear us. Please. _She tried to scream again but a hand slammed into her mouth. Struggling against the banner, she finally was able to draw a knee back, kicking him between the legs. As soon as his grip weekend and his stomach curled she shoved him away from her and took off up the stairs. Everything she assumed about him was correct. All the fears, all the worries, all the stress, everything was right! Her hand gripped the ends of her dress as she bounded up each step, not caring about finesse anymore. Not caring about what people thought. She wasn't trying to live her life anymore... she was trying to survive it.

"_Elizabeth!"_ He snarled, his voice cracked with pain as he bounded up the stairs after her. "Elizabeth _get back here!" No no no no! _The dress slowed her down immensely and soon his hands were around her wrists again. But before he could surround her, she spun away, hearing his weight slam into the wall right beneath Arthur's grand portrait. That didn't give her much time though. Only five steps more and he wrapped his arms around her.

"HEL-phmgff-!"a hand clasped against her mouth as he dragged her away from the studies. She tried to squirm from his grasp, writhing and attempting to make noise. And even though she was unable to get free, she did give him a hell of a time. He was stronger than her, she knew this. She also knew that he was dragging her into the abandoned part of the manor... no one would be able to hear her scream even if she was able to..

"_I know you've been with the soldier. You've been with him since he arrived here!" _He snarled, voice cracking with a desperate tone. "_how can you constantly make me feel like the bad guy when you've been sleeping with another man!? HOW!?" _She broke away for one second while his grip was loosened only to be captured again and slammed against a wall, momentarily fogging her vision. Kicking, hitting, biting, but none of these things worked against a man like Alec. He was a labouress man, the kind who would work in the fields daily. The kind that had muscles making up his body weight, and barely any fat save from the alcohol. The kind of man who, combined with anger issues, could kill.. she had to get away. Find some way to contact a servant or Angus or Alfred. _Alfred please have heard me._

oOo

"_So send me away with a smile little girl," _Alfred sang to the tune of the music. Earlier in the morning, he had taken a cab to downtown Carlisle, and ended up finding some records. Of course, most had to do with the war, a little spout of patriotism never hurt. Though, with the soldier's sudden appearance the other day, the Great War was something he really just didn't want to think about. _"Brush the tears from my eyes of brown. It's all for the best and I'm off with the rest~" _

He was going to make Elizabeth his wife... determined to. And though she refused his first amateur proposal, it meant nothing to him. To an American with the dedication of a stubborn mule. Rolling on his side upon the ancient mattress, his hands grappled a small black box in his pocket. And as he opened it, a cheap, iron ring sat inside. He didn't exactly bring too much on his leave, nor did he have too much to begin with. But a ring was a ring. And a ring Elizabeth would wear on her finger with his name on it. _Just you wait, Elizabeth.. you'll grin all pretty like when I pop this out before I get in that automobile and you'll laugh and jump into my arms like them movies always do. And you'll call me your husband and I'll call you my wife... _he shut the box. Alfred's heart couldn't take this. What if she said no again? What if she actually... actually still loved Alec. That savage Scottish bastard didn't know what he had, a dame so beautiful as her... "Pah!" he laughed as the music trailed off and died. However, on the last note he swore he could hear a small uneven tune...

Or maybe that wasn't the music. It wasn't a tune... it was a scream. Faint, but there. His eyes snapped open wide, "Elizabeth." Slipping the box back into his pocket, he flew out the door, the white noise eerily filling the room. Yet, in his instinctual hastiness, he had forgotten a very vital item that if he were to never have become so acquainted with the manor, would never have left his side. Upon the drawer, sitting with all of its harbinger qualities... was his pistol.

Racing through the first floor, his should clacking upon the wood as he ran, he paused for just a moment at the base of the stairs. "Hello?! Elizabeth!?" He called out, catching his breath.

No answer.

Sprinting up the stairs he paused at the top, trying to figure out which way to go. If there was trouble in the studies, Angus and the servants would have been there to aid her... yet as he gazed down the hallway there was no commotion to be found. "Elizabeth!" He called out, going with a gut instinct towards the forgotten wing, shouting her name over and over again. As he branched off towards one of the old guest corridors, he heard the faintest cry. "_Elizabeth!_" he shouted out again.

"Alfred!" Came another vague reply. In an instant he was tracking down which door it had come from. "Alfred! Over here this one!" A knob five doors down shook violently and he quickly ran to it and gripped a hand around the knob. But it didn't turn. It was locked.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth what happened? Who threw you in here? Are you alright!?" He shouted through the wood.

"Yes, yes, I'm a bit shaken up but I'm alright. Listen, Alfred, you have to-"

"Back up a bit Elizabeth." He shouted before doing so himself. Suddenly he slammed his body weight into the door again and again through Elizabeth's desperate pleas to stop. Trying to kick it down, the door proved too sturdy for him despite its age and he growled in fury. "It's a built a lot better than it looks"

"_Alfred. _You have to get out of here! My husband, he's cracked-"

"Elizabeth, he cracked a long time ago. I'll go get my pistol, then I can get you out of here."

"There's no time! He's probably already got his gun from the studies. You have to leave me, Alfred! He's not going to hurt me as much as you.."

"I can take him Elizabeth, but I'm not leaving you in this godforsaken hell house!"

"Alfred. Please. He's going to kill you. Everything is off about him. He's driven by some mad idea in his head." She sobbed, her forehead up against the door. "He lusts for your blood, Alfred.. just... please... go. Leave me, I can take care of myself."

"He's going to kill you too, Elizabeth. And I can't let that happen."

"Alfred..."

"Elizabeth, stay back, I'm going to try kicking it down again." Pressing his back against the opposite side of the hallway he sprinted towards the door at full speed and slammed into it, hearing the door suddenly crack. Taking in deep breaths, he did the same thing, this time the door folding in on itself and dust pluming up from the wood. Elizabeth stood, amazed and unbelievably grateful, running up to him and hugging him tightly. But Alfred knew this was no time to feel safe. There was still a savage with a gun on the loose, hunting him and the beautiful woman that clung to him. Grabbing her hand he sprinted towards the grand staircase again. There may be a slim chance that they could slip towards the front door and get out before Alec got there... what was he thinking?

"Alfred! Wait, that's wh-" A figure halted below Arthur's painting, his eyes red and furious at the sight of the two together. A shotgun sat in his hand and he gripped it with a loathing. But before he could even think of raising it to the two, Alfred shoved Elizabeth in front of him, both of them sprinting down into the forgotten wing once more. This time though, they went deeper than even Elizabeth had ever dared to. This time the chambers became smaller and rats littered the hallway. Cob webs and dust coated the walls along with grime from the ages of not being cleaned. Why they had never teared down this section, she never knew, but even so, with a madman shooting at them and barricading them to this wing, she was only thankful Alfred was leading her.

"Wait.." She said, spotting someone at the end of the hallway before it forked off into two more. Entering the room ahead, the figure disappeared. "_Hellen!_" She shouted, their pace quickening until they finally burst through the room much to the shock of the pudgy servant woman.

"W-what on earth!?" Hellen hollered, dropping a broom to the floor and spraying dust into the air, "what are you doi-" Elizabeth was suddenly pulled into the back corner, Alfred's body moving quickly in front of her's but. Peaking out from behind him, Alec stood in the doorway, Hellen shouting in such a heavy brogue she could only guess was some type of foul language. But when Alec pulled the gun and aimed it at Alfred, something turned in Hellen and the maid threw herself at Alec, knocking the gun away just as it fired into the ceiling. As much as the woman had fight in her though, she was no match for Elizabeth's husband, especially not an anger-consumed hand slamming into the side of her head. Perhaps it was his hand or perhaps it was his gun, either way the woman went down and stayed down.

"NO!" Alfred snarled, rushing at him and clasping his gun, but Alec had a firm grip on it as well. Elizabeth screamed as the two men slammed into the door frame, both desperately trying to get the gun away form the other. Finally, knowing it was useless, Alfred slammed the gun into the corner of the frame at an angle that allowed the gun to suddenly become weak and crack. In shock, Alec loosened his grip only to be thrown out of the room and have a door slammed in his face.

Elizabeth rushed to Hellen's side, the woman groaning and a gash in her temple. Blood ran down her cheek and neck, staining her hair as well as the wood beneath her. "Hellen! Hellen!" Elizabeth shouted, but the woman wouldn't open her eyes. The door shook violently, Alec's weight being thrown against it over and over again desperately trying to overthrow Alfred's weight keeping the door up. But the American was struggling and wouldn't be able to hold it forever.

"Hellen, please be alright..." check her pulse, she relaxed a bit and then dragged her to the corner beside the old bed frame. Alfred and Elizabeth exchanged looks, and each could hear each others' thoughts entirely. They were together. They could die here... and it wouldn't matter. In fact, there was a chance they were going to die... a very high chance. And that was okay.

That exact fate was coming closer and closer though as Alfred struggled more and more against the thrashing of the door. He could hear Alec backing up, preparing to destroy the wooden board that kept them safe and prepared himself.

But the collision never came. The door never broke. In fact, he could hear a struggle outside and a thrashing, then eventually a silence. They looked at each other in confusion and fear when a knock pounded against the door. "Oi! Elizabeth! Alfred! You blokes alright?" Angus bellowed. Elizabeth made a sound that merged laughing and crying as Alfred hurried to open the door. "Quickly now! Quickly!" He hollered, rushing them both out of the room and down the hallway, Elizabeth taking note of an unconscious Alec slumped against the wall. "I'm so sorry for what my brother has done... to both of you." He stated as the ran, the fiery sunset dying and dimming their sights.

"There's no blame in you, friend. There are just some evils in the world..." Angus nodded to Alfred as they raced down the stairs.

"I had told Orkney earlier today to take the draft out in the field, so it would be quicker if you take Alec's horse."

"You're okay with us leaving you here?" Elizabeth asked astounded.

"It's partially my fault that you're in this position in the first place, lass." He stated in a grave tone. "If I would have known how bad Alec's condition was... if I knew what you were going through..." Elizabeth caressed Angus' crest-fallen face.

"Don't blame yourself Angus. It was my fault I never told anyone."

"Yes, while this is great to tell each others' faults n' all, we need to get away before Alec wakes up." Alfred said hastily. They both nodded in contempt and hurried outside towards the barn. Alfred ran ahead to get the horse, not bothering to put a saddle on its back as he brought it out of the stable and helped Elizabeth on.

"Listen... I'm sorry." Angus stated, holding the reins of the proud black gelding as Alfred climbed up behind Elizabeth. As Angus gave the reins to Alfred, the American steadied the horse, turning it away, yet still listening to the Irishman. "Go to Carlisle and locate Geir! I don't care how bloody late it is make sure he opens that goddamn door. He'll help you from there."

"What about you, Angus!?" The man gave a look to her that made a shiver crawl down her spine.

"I'll hold Alec off as long as I can... but you have to go. Go!" He smacked the horse's rump and waved his arms," Get outta' hear!" The snow spat out from underneath the horse's hooves as it took off down the cobblestone road. Alfred vigorously held onto the reins, taking the horse to top speed as it huffed its breath into the cold night air. What irony was it to finally have clear skies on such a day as this.

Elizabeth's eyes never left Angus'. He stood to see them off, he saved their lives and gave them a chance. And he grew tinier and tinier it was ripping the heart out of her chest. Her family was taken from her at a young age... and when finally found a new one... it had been destroyed as well. The look in Angus' eyes... why would he have that look... as if...

A shot fired loud and clear just as Angus disappeared from view and the forest came into sight. "_Angus!" _She screamed, but Alfred held her close and kept her on the horse. Angus didn't have a gun on him. He wasn't holding a gun when he saw them off. Alec was holding a gun. He had a gun when he was unconscious... and Angus never took it from him. "_Dammit you bastard!" _She sobbed, her hands numb as they gripped the horse's mane. Alfred kissed her on the head, for little to her knowledge he was holding the tears back as well. Angus was a strong, hearty man... if he had gone down that easily...

No.. he had to stop thinking about it for Elizabeth's sake. He had to suck in the tears, ride fast, and keep his eyes on the road ahead. The forest was a blur, the winding road not even a hassle for the experienced rider. But for Elizabeth, it was a visit to a memory that had been brought to shame. As soon as they were released from the forest's claws, the town's dwindling fires came into sight, nestled between the foothills so peacefully... so ironically peaceful. They could even hear some carolers singing their last songs before returning to their homes.

When the dirt road turned to stone, the clopping of the horse's hooves grew louder in the silent streets. Elizabeth dutifully directed Alfred towards _Geir í búð _memorizing the only foreign letters in town. "German? He must get a lot of shit up here" Alfred blinked at the sign, helping Elizabeth off the horse.

"Icelandic, actually." Elizabeth corrected.

"Right." Alfred banged on the door shouting Geir's name. "Open up! We need your help! We're from the Kirkland manor! Help!" A few moments later the door opened and Geir stood in a night gown and cap, a candle in his hand.

"Are you trying to wake up the whole town!? What are you doing out at this time, and why don't you have a jacket!?" The short man scolded in the odd brogue.

"It was an emergency." Alfred answered, storming into the house, Elizabeth following quickly after. Geir went around the room, lighting the candles and killing the darkness of the room.

"What do you mean emergency?"

"My husband has snapped."

"Again?"

"Worse." She growled. "... we believe... bel-"

"Angus is dead. Gavan has been deployed. One of the servants is severely injured and he's hunting us."

"He has a gun, Geir... please... Angus told me you could help us."

The blonde blinked, trying to take in all the information at once. "... Angus... is dead?" They both nodded. Geir collapsed against a table, "guð minn.. are you certain of this?"

"There was a gun shot and only Alec had a gun..."

"Dammit, Alec... what have you done?" Geir whispered under his breath. Glancing upwards at the both of them he turned and waved them to follow. Turning out the back door, three adult dogs piled over each other next to the house for warmth. Another memory... "A new battery was installed last week so you should be set for a good while." He stated as he wrapped his hands around a larged, angled tarp. When he pulled it off, a nicely polished automobile sat next to a wood pile.

"Thank you, Geir. Thank you. I can never repay you enough, "she said, clasping her hands to his.

"Sincerely. My debt is yours, Geir." Alfred nodded. The Icelander just awkwardly nodded and backed away, uneasy with the weight of such gratitude. "Elizabeth, wait here." He said as he herded Geir into the store... Alfred didn't even know what kind of memories he was springing onto her. Memories that can never be erased nor replicated. They had no meaning now. Nothing of her past lives did. When Alfred reappeared, he called Elizabeth into the store as Geir hurried past her to start up the vehicle. As she heard the engine rev, he took her out to the front of the store, dressing her with one of Geir's coats.

"Elizabeth, close your eyes." She obeyed, feeling the warmth from the coat affect her already. Closing her eyes, she felt something be placed into the jacket pocket. "Alright, you can open them." Doing so she looked at him confused. Geir pulled up next to them, the horse stomping the ground in annoyance to the loud noise. "Elizabeth..." her attention switched to him. "You must promise me not to look at what I put in your pocket until we get on the train, understand?"

"I understand."

"You promise?"

"I promise, Alfred."

"You don't have too much time. Hurry." Geir shouted. Alfred hurried her into the vehicle but as she looked back at him... he was smiling... and he wasn't in the automobile.

"Alfred... are you daft? Get in!"

"No... no no I need to take care of this."

"You said _we _would get on the train! Alfred! No!" Alfred shut the door and called out to Geir.

"You make sure she's safe, Geir! You hear me!?" He growled as he jumped back onto the horse, turning it away. Tears swelled and streamed down her face.

"_ALFRED!" _

"I will guard her with my life, Lieutenant." Geir shouted back, forcing the automobile forward.

Alfred gave one last smile to her. "Remember, Elizabeth... you promised..."

"Alfred.." She sobbed.

With a kick of his heel, the horse shot into a sprint up towards the knolls, and away from her. And she watched, locked into this machine, seeing her second love riding off, unarmed, into the darkness to face a monster with a shotgun...

oOo

The ride was silent. Geir didn't know what to say and she had nothing to say. Nothing but a foggy, eerie emptiness in her mind. Eventually sound did make its way to the pair, the small whispers of her prayers to a God she now was skeptical of. "O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O Lord who said to me, 'Return to your country and to your kindred, that I may do you good,' I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant, for with only my staff I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps. Please deliver him from the hand of his brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, that he may come and attack him, the mothers with the children. But you said, 'I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude." Geir gave a softened glance to Elizabeth as she repeated that prayer over and over again, the tips of her fingers pressed to her forehead. He had to say something... anything...

"... Elizabeth?" He whispered.

She ignored him.

"Elizabeth... I know you're hurting... but... what he did... he did for you..."

"Are you talking about the suicidal moron or the husband that's trying to kill me?"

"The soldier that risked everything to protect you..."

She went silent.

"He's a brave man, Elizabeth. That American. And he is strong."

"So is Alec. And he has a gun."

"He may. But Alfred has a purpose. Alec is driven by only his loathing and his hatred. The hurt within his own shattered heart. But behind that lies nothing. Just emptiness. Alfred... he has love. He has true purpose to protect you. And loving you, may just save him in this grim circumstance." She kneaded her lip, her eyes baggy and heavy at the late hour. "Love is more powerful than hate, Elizabeth... remember that." Those were the last words she heard before she drifted off into darkness.

When she woke up, the sun was peaking over the horizon... of buildings. She sat on a bench outside a train station, the sun hitting her face and a few people gathering beside the train about to board. Geir came into view from what looked to be the ticket booth, and as she blinked away the sleep, he gave her the tickets as well as fifty dollars. "Geir.."

"You'll be taken to Worthing. There, you will board a ship. The item Alfred gave you will explain everything else." the man's face softened. "... be safe Elizabeth.." She blinked and nodded silently, watching the man in his odd little automobile disappear as long as she could before she was forced to get on the train with at least thirty other people. Elizabeth could feel it roll into motion slowly, feel the tracks beneath her seat, hear the whistle of the engine and the talk of the crew as the punched everyone's ticket. She would forever embed the faces and expressions she had seen that night into her brain, the back of Geir's head as he disappeared into the distance... memories... all memories...

Reminding herself of the item, she slipped her hand into the jacket pocket and pulled out a small, black box. A ring box. _Alfred.._ When she opened it, a folded up piece of paper sat inside, and when she lifted that... she found a poorly made iron ring... "Alfred... you fool.." closing her eyes and breath deeply she snapped the ring box closed and slipped it into her pocket before opening the piece of paper. The words were hastily scribbled on, most likely when Geir and Alfred were talking... but still very much legible.

_My Dear, Elizabeth, _

_I wish I could have done this in person. But seeing the circumstances this was the next best option. If you're reading this, it means you're on the train. Good. That means you're safe and away from danger. Or at least the danger at hand. I'm getting off track.. and making horrible train jokes as well apparently..._

She laughed, and cried at the same time.

_The point is... I still want you to be my wife. I want you to live with me and my brother on the ranch in Montana. I want to show you American food and the American life. Show you the rolling hills at sunset on the back of my horses. I want to make love to you every night with a ring on your finger... of course... when we are finally able to be together... that piece of crap iron won't be the one you'll wear. No, you'll wear a nice, big, beautiful diamond. The kind them rich people hand out like lollies. _

_It's a rough road ahead, Elizabeth. I know that. But don't lose hope. Don't ever lose hope. I'm sorry I went back on my promise about never leaving your side... but if it was to protect you... I'd do anything. I love you Elizabeth. _

_When you get to Worthing, you'll find a ship called the RMS Aurania. Tell the captain of that ship this: Order for the US Army Lieutenant Alfred F. Jones of the 5th Infantry. Information regarding the US General Rodrigo Sanchez and new German coordinates. Code 31BRED. If he doesn't believe you. Use that woman power of yours to convince him otherwise. Make me proud. Once you're in France, find the American base camp in Le Cateau and seek out Sanchez. He is the most honorable, heroic man I know.  
_

_Trust my boys. Let them know I sent you... and whatever you do. Don't get hurt. If I don't arrive at the base camp five days from now, board a ship to America and find my brother, Matthew Jones. It's the only place I know you'll be safe...  
_

_I love you Elizabeth, and as far as the engagement goes... till death do we part.  
_

_ Love, _

_ Alfred F. Jones _

She smiled, tears dropping and staining the paper with liquid. Folding the paper up gently, she bundled herself up in the coat and pressed the letter to her lips.

"Merry Christmas, Alfred..."

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

What a great chapter to write in a bad mood! Woot! Hope you guys are liking spring while I'm writing about Christmas! I warned you that these next few won't be as setting-based as the rest of the story. Hope you like the change!

Rodrigo Sanchez = Puerto Rico, a close ally of America during the war.


	13. So Cold

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

The whistle blew in the chilled English air as she hugged her coat to her bosom for warmth. But very little could be found. The conductor called out in his strict cockney accent "al'board! Worthin' port, bats! Bats n' Wicken, passengers aboard, y'hear?" Several people left the train and several people got on board. At each station, she felt numb, not knowing whether to be hopeful or scared at the same time. She was so afraid that if she stared out the window at the crowd of people and families, with their suitcases and tired expressions, she'd see Alfred there, covered in blood. Or even worse... Alec.

This was all her fault... she knew it was. Everything was. From the very day she was found in that forest by Alec. If she hadn't been there, if she had just stayed in London, she wouldn't have fallen in love with a monster... and a monster wouldn't have killed her true love. _He's not dead yet, Elizabeth, remember that, _she told herself. Alfred's a trained soldier. _A lieutenant of the US arms. Compared to a simple... strong... terrifying farmer from Scotland..._ he did take down Angus pretty damn easy...

The damned odds were even.

"You seem tuckered out, bella!" Angus' face clogged her vision as she flinched away from the voice. Angus!?

A man stared at her, blinking. He was old and tan with a scruffy look and breath that smelt of wine. A breath released. "Oh mio! I'm sorry! Did I scare you!?" He asked worriedly in a faint Mediterranean dialect. She shook away her expression and forced a smile.

"No, no... you just... you remind of someone very dear I lost recently."

"Well that explains why you're so sad, mi amica. I'm very sorry. It's a pity when we have to let someone go." She nodded. "Have you ever ridden on the train by yourself?"

Elizabeth shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on twiddling thumbs. "No.. I... I was sent on this train to be safe..." _safe. _Was she really?

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, where are you going?"

"Worthing Port. I'm boarding at the fourteenth hour on a ship called the RMS Aurania. Have you heard of it?"

"Isn't that that passenger vessel that's always guarded like a hun's fort?"

"I wouldn't know." She said solemnly. "I've... never really traveled out of London prior to this year at Carlisle."

"You lived in Carlisle?" He chuckled. "I had a son that lived in Carlisle for a few years, he died a long while ago in the Great War."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's completely fine. Like I said, it was a while ago. Besides... it seems everyone's lost someone in this war..." They both looked around... and it seemed like his words were right. When the war began, every country that entered was more than happy to lend a hand to their allies and friends. But there was no obvious reason to be fighting other than the back each other up and show off their new weapons. Then it was an arms race. But no one had any hate for the other soldiers, they all knew that no matter what side you were fighting for, you were just doing your duty to your country. And most soldiers even were ecstatic to join. Around Christmas time the trenches were full of merriment. The papers told of soldiers from the German, English, French and Canadian side all coming together to play football in no man's land, have burials for the fallen. At least that's what Alfred's soldier friend had told them. There was celebration in the air... and now... now that there have been so many to have died everyone just wants this war done with. It's dragging on only for the cause of survival. There was no patriotism anymore as bodies were sent back by the dozens. Families weeping over their sons, brothers, lovers and fathers all read the telegram of death. She watched now with every single person's eyes baggy from tears and realized...

No one was safe from this war.

"The war's ruined my life... and I'm not even near it."

He sighed and patted her on the shoulder. "Listen, bella, it doesn't sit right with me seeing a beautiful young woman like yourself traveling on your own. Do you mind if I escort you to that ship of yours?"

"Not at all. Thank you." She nodded, straightening her posture. "So, what can this strange gentleman be called?"

"Roma. Roma Vargas. And you?"

"Elizabeth Kirkland. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vargas. Are you Spanish? Your name.."

"Ah no, no. I'm actually Italian, dear bella. I'm a professor at the university in Liverpool."

"What do you teach?"

"Sociology, Physiology, Psychiatry. The puzzle of the mind and of the people. However, on the side I do indulge myself in the papers..."

She pierced her lips, "... I've... stopped reading them to be quite honest."

"For some that is the only option." He smiled warmly. "but I believe that for others, it makes them stronger... cause if you are aware of what is going on, then you can deem the decisions the war is forcing men to make right or wrong."

"Isn't all of war wrong though in itself?"

"Not necessarily. With it, it brings closure for injured families. Humanity in itself is cruel, Miss Kirkland... without violence, we would not be human, unfortunately. Evil balances out the good, and sadly, the pure can be caught in the middle of it all."

"That's awful.."

He calmly nodded with a warm smile, "It is... but it is also just how things are. Exception of what can never be changed will bring closure to an aching mind as well as an aching heart." _Well that part is very true..._ she nodded and sighed.

"So where are you heading to, _Professor_?" She chuckled.

"I'm getting on that ship of yours actually. Heading down to Italy. I have two grandsons down there that I left when I traveled to the UK... I don't feel too safe now that they're in the midst of this war..."

"So you're bringing them back here?"

"Precisamente. You're a smart girl, Miss Kirkland. However, if I'm unable to save them from this foolery, I'm not afraid to stay with them."

Elizabeth thought about this for a second. "But if you want their safety... why did you leave them in the first place?" There was a certain twinkle in the old man's eye.

"Because I trust them. They are old enough to make their own decisions whether it's right or wrong. They don't want an old man like me all over them through their young adult years... it would be nauseating for them! Besides... when you love someone dearly, you have to let them go. Especially if it means keeping them safe."

"I'm starting to get tired of everyone trying to keep me safe." She muttered, Roma responding with a hearty laugh. He reminded her so much of Angus it hurt...

"You are, are you? Well you won't be tired of it soon... the mainland's pretty fierce." The professor winked at her. "Then again, so are you."

oOo

When the train reached Worthing, the steam spewing into the air as passengers filtered out of the train cars. Roma stayed close to Elizabeth, guarding her fervently, however, she felt odd with an old man probably into his mid eighties standing over her like a watchdog giant. An odd sight indeed.

Down the hill, she could spot the harbor, the blackened sea peppered with white from the boats and ships. There were four rather large blotches that she could make out as ships that were so clogged with passengers, she could see the boarding docks sparkling with rowdy heads. A hand pointed over her shoulder towards the third one to the right. "That's the Aurania. A beautiful ship, she is." She just nodded, not really understanding how a ship could be beautiful.

When the horn blasted through the vibrant city, they both looked at each other, reading each others' thoughts. The ship was going to be leaving soon. Thankfully, in Worthing, cabs were far and wide, so it wasn't too hard for the both of them to find one and direct them to the harbor. The mob of people there was another story though. Everyone seemed to want to board one of the now three vessels as one finally left its boarding dock.

"Shouldn't we... have a ticket?"

"Mio dio, I thought you had some?"

"No! I, I wasn't aware..." _F__ind the captain and tell him this message. If he doesn't believe you, use that woman power of yours to convince him otherwise. Make me proud. _Here eyes widened. "We have to find the captain."

"I doubt the captain is going to want to talk to a young girl and an old man."

"Trust me, professor, he's going to want to hear what I have to say." Roma gave a grim, hesitant nod and followed as she pushed through the crowd, waving money at the closed ticket booth. It was only when they got closer did she see the military ships surrounding each vessel and the soldiers that pushed the crowd back. "Wait! Let me through!" She shouted. But her voice wasn't even clear to herself through the screaming and hollering of the crowd. Finally pushing past a rather voluptuous woman and right into the stone-hard chest of a mousy-looking, British Naval officer.

"Get back in line, girl."

"There is no line, there's just chaos!" She shouted at him. He just grimaced at her.

Shoving her, he repeated, "I said _get back in line._" Roma snarled from behind her.

"Don't you touch her!" His hands pushed the soldier back.

"Sir, you are really pushing my buttons!" He gripped his gun and Elizabeth's heart beat fast, racing in front of the old man.

"W-WAIT, wait!"

"Ma'am, get back in line before there's tro-"

"_Code 31BRED_!" He paused, blinking at her.

"How... do you know.."

"Orders for the US Army. Belonging to Lieutenant Alfred F. Jones of the 5th Infantry. Information regarding the US General Rodrigo Sanchez and new German coordinates," She caught her breath, "...Code 31BRED. I have to talk to the captain of this ship." Both the soldier and professor stared at her incredulously. Eventually, the soldier closed his eyes, regained his sanity, and gently took Elizabeth by the arm, calling over another soldier to do the same to Roma. The old man wasn't too pleased at this and pulled away from the soldier, demanding he walk himself. The code obviously worked... but there was another problem at hand.

He was taking her away from the Aurania. Of course, she wasn't necessarily going to argue further with an already trigger-happy soldier, but she looked at Roma with fear in her eyes... his were so calm. A slight frustration burning in them... but for the most part calm. They were both taken to a military vessel two docks down from the Aurania. It was so looming, with its dark metal and large guns on deck. The thing was massive and scary looking, but of course, the soldiers didn't flinch as they dragged them aboard. They were shoved through several passage ways and corridors, all whistling with steam and the walls painted in piping. But they weren't like the corridors she was so use to walking up and down in, no, these were metal, there was only enough space to make through in a haste and there were so many mechanical patchwork that made it look like a rag doll made of metal. Yet at the end of the corridor, a metal door greeted them and a wood-plated room surrounded their tense forms. There was a few desks around the corners, but one was distinct. At it, sat an extremely touch-looking man with a grey mustache that curled upwards slightly.

"Who are these two?" He growled as he stood up, placing his hand behind his back. The soldiers instantly saluted.

"Sir. This woman here wishes to speak to you."

_That's the captain? I meant the captain of the Aurania! _"I-I meant the captain of the Aurania!" The mousy-looking soldier snapped a glance at her and then back at his officer. He grimaced, walking forward and examining the two. Roma tensed up, a bead of sweat on his brow. He obviously didn't like the situation they were in.

"You brought two civilians aboard a military vessel? With no reason other than they would like to talk to me!?" The captain snarled. She could see the soldier sweating in nervousness.

"Sir, it's not his fault." She spoke. "I was told to bring a message to the captain of the Aurania, but I suppose the same will work for you." She had the captain's full attention. Taking a deep breath, she read over the words in her head." I have orders for the US Army. These orders come from Lieutenant Alfred F. Jones of the 5th Infantry. These orders regard information for the US General Rodrigo Sanchez about new German coordinates, Code 31BRED." The captain blinked and she shared a look with the soldier similar to gratitude. Gazing over at the official, he paced the floor, mulling over the words.

"And... do you know what any of that means, lass?"

"Not a single word, sir." He chuckled lightly. She forced a smile. "But I need a safe passage to the mainland, Lt. Jones said if I told you, I could receive such courtesy from a captain of such gentleman qualities as yourself..." _use your woman power to convince him otherwise. Make me proud. _And it was working. He gleamed at this compliment, stared for a long while at her and the snapped his fingers towards a guard at the wall. "Prepare two cots in the cabins immediately. We have guests aboard this ship, you hear?" The guard instantly left his post to spread word to the crew. She released a relieved breath... she finally was on track... Alfred's words were working, his directions and orders were coming through...

oOo

"Aurgheahi" Roma moaned, slumping against the side of the cabin. "Che tipo di trucco diabolico è questo?"

"Are you alright, Professor?" She asked worriedly from the top cot. The beds that them and the soldiers slept in were just sheets of canvas bolted to the sides of the wall. Not exactly perfect material for a sea-weary old man.

"Q-Quite alright, piccolo" Roma grumbled, forcing a sickly smile. "With such traveling experience as myself you'd think that I would be use to the swaying and tossing of ships..." She chuckled. That is until the old man released all over the floor, almost landing on the boots of a very disgusted soldier. The poor officer jumped back into his cot with extreme protest but Roma just waved him away with sincere apologies.

After the military vessel had left port, there was no moving about the cabins, the mousy soldier had told her as such. The soldiers upon the ship needed their room to move around, in which case was very limited. So the label of "guest" on the ship therefore was limited as well. Eventually though, she didn't really want to see the war-inspired machinery. The guns, the soldiers, the armory, she never wanted to be close to the war, never even dreamed of getting so involved in it...

But Alfred gave her orders. And orders she would follow.

When the sun rose the next morning she was able to sneak out of the bunker, leaving the sickly old man in his cot. Hurrying on deck, she could see the mainland very close as well as the three other ships to the left of her. The Aurania was one of them, apparently, she had found herself on the borders of a convoy. A convoy of the ship she should have been on.

"Oi! We're about to land! Get back below!" Shouted a lieutenant as he caught her coming up the stairs.

"I just needed some fresh air," she called back down. "I'm sorry."

"Agh, you're lucky to be travelin' with us anyways, darlin'. A pretty little thing like yourself shouldn't have just an old man to protect you. You're gonna get into a lot of trouble on the mainland you know!" She furrowed her brow.

"Then that's trouble that I shall deal with alone." The officer made a sound of annoyance waving her down to the cabin again. This time she really did follow his orders and crawled down below through the cramped corridors. It wasn't long until it was made aware they had connected with the harbor. The seagulls cried out and the ocean waves roared and crashed along the shore. Helping Roma out of his cot, the Italian doubled over and upchucked again, which she was careful to avoid.

When the soldiers issued them out of the cabin and off the ship, they gave them a little while to soak in the air of France. The sea breeze was repugnant and war ships lined the coast along with countless passenger vessels. She turned to Roma, eyes wide with awe from this new world she had found herself in. He smiled to her fondly. "Amazing isn't it?" He whispered.

"It's glorious, Roma." Only if Alfred could see this with her... Roma put a hand on his hip and another around her shoulder. His meaty arms very much contradicting his elderly age.

"The sight of a new country is an experience in itself, bella. But be weary, because even beautiful things can be very dangerous." Nodding he adjusted his coat, picked up his luggage, and began walking towards the distant crowd filtering off of the Aurania.

"Wait, are you leaving so soon, professor?" She called out, her heart aching to follow him. He was the first comfortability she afforded these past few days. He paused and turned, smiling wide at her.

"Well I must tend to my grandsons. Don't worry mi bella ragazza, La Cateau is not too far from here. Be careful though, alright?"

She smiled to the old man who had helped her so unhesitatingly. "Thank you, Professor Vargas." He waved, shouting back.

"I pray our paths meet again, miss Elizabeth." And with that, the old man turned his head and ventured off into the crowd. Watching, she barely noticed the aching in her heart that had been so noticeable for so long. But with such a light-hearted man as him to have made his way into her journey... it lifted her spirits and tested her hopes.

A hand was placed on her shoulder, turning her around and shoving her towards a vehicle. "Qui est-ce?" A squadron of soldiers grimly stared at them. They were French, their uniform a weathered blue and gear surrounding them.

"Listen here you frenchies, this here is important to the military. So take her to somewhere safe." The mousy soldier stood beside her, a scrunched face forming in response to French soldiers. They returned the favor. One, with dark, tightly-cropped hair stepped forward. Trying as best as he could to speak English clearly.

"We are not responsible for babysitting..." Her eyes instantly turned.

"I'm going to La Cateau!"

"I am sorry, La Cateau is too close to the front lines, we can't allow any of the public to get close, Mrs. Kirkland." Said the British soldier. "But listen, we will deliver the message so you've done your job."

"No! I have to go myself!" She was handed over to the French and forced to get into the military carriage, yet she fought the whole way. Writhing around, she contorted her body to reach back towards the direction of the harbor. "ROMA! Roma! Help!" She tried calling out to the crowd, seeing maybe if the old man was in audible range. He wasn't. They held her down to seating, stuck between two soldiers like a prisoner. They growled French words she didn't understand, faces all so serious and all so troubled. Their country was the base of the Great War... she didn't blame them. But even so, they should let her do it herself if they wouldn't help her.

They left the harbor, the horses nickering as they were whipped into formation. The caravan that surrounded them all were packed with refugees and passengers that needed to get across France. It was a nice thing they offered to the innocent, making sure they wouldn't get hurt in this dangerous war zone.

But this wasn't where she wanted to be. She was tired of being safe. Everyone wanted her to stay pure, to stay angelic like her reputation so readily suggests, but she was her own woman at the same time. She had lived safe her entire life, and now... now it was time to go down the other road.

When they reached the border of a small town, a gate had been put up around the border. To each side a thick forest greeted them, cold and foggy. As the officials of the caravan got out of the carriages and began talking to the guarding soldiers of the town, she was left with one soldier beside her. He was young, could still be considered a boy by most standards. Wasn't too bad looking either. And of course, he didn't think a young, little lady would be any trouble. "Oh!" She cried out suddenly, just loud enough for the boy to hear. "Oh bugger! I think I lost something back there! Oh do you think I would be able to get out and get it?" The boy looked confused, eying her and trying to distinguish the little English he knew.

"Non, non, restez ici, madame. Je vais obtenir votre chaussure." winging out of the carriage he plopped ankle deep into a mud pit. Groaning, the poor soldier still moved on to look behind the carriage for apparently a missing shoe. _What a polite young man, especially for a Frenchman_. When his head went behind the carriage she took off her shoes, held up her dress, and plopped into the mud, sprinting into the forest. The soldier turned around in just enough time to catch the tale of her dress disappearing into the wood. There was shouting, but no one seemed to come after her. Which she, of course, was completely fine with.

However, the woods were dark, and cold. Mud caked up to her shin and once she finally made it to solid ground, the leaves crinkled and cut against her feet. But despite all that, feeling was no longer a problem for her limbs, for in her flight of the soldiers, her coat had been left on the carriage. She shivered, slowly freezing, but never once stopping to get across the woods. The dress was becoming torn and ragged, as much as she attempted to keep it from touching the ground, there was no avail. But instead of slowing down, or even tearing the dress, she just ran faster and harder, her heart pounding in her chest.

The claws of the trees and the mist of the forest closed in. Pools of murky water splattered the terrain and as she continued running, her vision blurred. She was so weak, god she could feel her lungs about to burst and her skin starting to burn with frost. It was like knives dragging down her throat as she sucked in air and just kept on running.

_'Alec... if I may ask. Why do you keep staring at me?' 'Because you are very beautiful.' _his eyes, his voice his warmth. His freckles, so radiant in the summer light, his hair like fire against the sun. Fire... red, hot. Burning. Squelching. Consuming in its drunken inferno. And there was the bird, the eagle, the phoenix reborn from the flames like some angel from the heavens yet damned by the devil. It wrapped its wings around her, protecting her from the flames, the freezing heat... the cold... the rain...

The cold.

It's so cold.

Her lips, blue as the ice that crunched with each step. The same shade as her toes, as her fingers, as the blackening skies above.

It was a clear night. Stars twinkling across the horizon, glimmering in mockery to her painful existence. Grinning and laughing at her pathetic state of demise. She could barely move. Her legs, her feet, they refused to move forward, no matter how determined her mind was to move them. Shivering violently, she was able to take one more step, right into an unseen mud pool lurking neath the frost-filmed leaves.

This was it.

She had gotten this far. And that was okay. Alfred was probably dead anyways, it was alright for her to die here. Her life, though horrible and tragic, had moments that warmed her, and made her forget the freezing environment that greeted her at every turn. So cold. So frozen to the bone that she could barely even make a sound. And as much as she attempted, Elizabeth had lost her strength to even try and pull herself out... she was stuck. There would be no knight on horseback to ride through the murky wood and rescue her. There would be no knight to whisk her off to a castle and meet his amazing family and show her the ways of royalty. There would be no knight to teach her to ride horses, or buy her a dog... or drink. There would be no knight to beat her, rape her, and desert her.

And there would be no phoenix to protect her either.

There would just be the pillow of leaves and the cover of frost. The wet mattress that welcomed her fading life and the black ceiling with its peppered lights.

There would be no inferno.

Only cold.

So cold...

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

**_Translations:_**

_(italian) Che tipo di trucco diabolico è questo? = what kind of evil trick is this?  
_

_(french) Qui est-ce? = who is this?_

_(french) Non, non, restez ici, madame. Je vais obtenir votre chaussure. = no, no, ma'am. I will get your shoe._


	14. The Blood In His Eyes

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

Crackling. Crackling and snapping, the pain being brought aware to her weary figure. But there was warmth as well. So much warmth. And... everything was soft. Like rabbit's fur upon her skin... mink maybe? She wanted to open her eyes, but they seemed frozen shut. Painfully, Elizabeth forced her eyes to crack open, feeling the glue of frost tumbling down her still numb cheek.

The room was wooden, the ceiling simple with a loft to the left. As she turned her head very carefully, right beside her a fireplace snapped and crackled, providing her with any warmth needed. "H..." she tried to manage words, but her voice was weak and fragile. "He.. llo?... He-llo? Hello?" She repeated, her eyes searching around fervently to find civilization in this home.

An old man's back faced her from the opposite corner of herself. He was whistling quietly, the softest melody of a song she did not know. "Hello?" She called out again, louder, no longer just a hoarse whisper but a sound. The man slowly turned around. His face was pale, his eyes deep with age, white hair feathered around his crest, and an oddly-shaped beard hung around his lips as he smiled to her.

"Ah! You are awake..." He spoke in a thick French accent. It was difficult to distinguish the english words from his dialect, so she nodded slowly.

Then everything came back to her. Roma, his smiling face, the mousy soldier, the escape from the French and the freezing wooden mudland. The train ride, the ship, the letter in the ring box...

The coat.

"No!" She flew upwards, stumbling into the mantle above the fire. The man hurried forward to prop her up.

"Mademoiselle! You shouldn't walk! You're still thawing dear girl!" _How could she have been so stupid. _All of Alfred's directions, the last things that allowed her to know her happiness was real... and she had left it on the carriage. Wait. Looking t her hand, she stared in relief at the iron that wrapped around her ring finger. She still had his ring... there was still hope. "Madam, please sit, sit. Eat something. Cheese? Bread? What do you like?"

"Could I have... some bread, please?"

"Of course, of course." the pudgy old man waddled towards the cupboards that lined the right wall. It was a quaint house, typical for a middle-class Frenchman. But it was lonely at the same time, there were several pictures that hung on the wall, but no family to match those smiling faces. It was obvious the man had been living there for a while, more than such... alone. "You know..." came the distant French brogue. "when I found you in the mud... I thought you were dead." Chuckling, he poured milk into a kettle and placed it over the fire, handing her the bread. "You were very pale, and your... your heart." he tapped his chest, "it was very faint. Lips as blue as berries, madam!" face warming, he smiled at her, "so please, do not be insulted if I stare in amazement." She nodded at him, smiling and consuming the bread hungrily.

"So... you are English?" The man continued, attempting to make conversation.

"And you are French?" He laughed. She didn't. "... sir, where am I?"

"Well when I found you, I was making my way back to my village, so-"

"Where is your village?"

"La Cateau, Madam."

She dropped the bread. Her heart no longer beat as faint as a corpse, but instead, it beat like a drum at the sound of war. So fast, that the room spun as she tried desperately to stabilize herself. "Madam, is something wrong?"

"We're in La Cateau!? Does... does that mean the base camp is near!?" She practically jumped on him, as the kettle screamed in their ears. The man pulled away, annoyed with the screaming and quickly taking the kettle from the fire.

"Yes, yes. The base camp is up the hill. But why would you have any interest in that?"

"I-I have my reasons!" Quickly, she found her legs and walked hastily towards the door.

"Madam! Wait, wait! You can't go out there!-"

"Listen, I'm very thankful for the hospitality you've shown. Really. I truly am. But I must get to that base camp.."

"Madamoiselle!" He wrapped his hands around her arm to try to pull her away, but not before she opened the door and rushed into the middle of the dirt street.

Only to be greeted by a German soldier. He eyed her, his lip raising in question as the sun shined on his ghostly face. The helmet he wore pointed to the sky with intimidation and power as he towered over her. Hands gripped her arms, startling her as the world began spinning once more. There were German soldiers... near the US base camp. No... what... what is happening? "I'm so sorry Monsieur. Elle est une enfant très malade. J'ai tendance à elle maintenant." The German held his gun tightly, his eyes narrowed and hollow with the eyes of war.

"Nicht um zu stehen. Holen Sie im Inneren des Hauses." He swatted an arm at them, "Gehen!" She couldn't make a sound she couldn't move. The man hurriedly pushed her back into his home and shut the door. Only when she was returned to the warm fire did her mind finally return to sanity.

"_There are German soldiers out there!_" Her eyes wildly snapped to the old man who flinched at such a look. "But... but the US base camp... General Rodrigo Sanchez... he..."

"Mademoiselle, calm down! You will faint at this rate!" The Frenchman quickly put up his hands ready to catch her if she did as such.

"Please, tell me what is happening!" She shouted. The Frenchman nodded slowly, lowering his hands and fiddling his thumbs. Taking a deep breath he spoke.

"Two days ago the Germans took La Cateau from the Americans" His eyes gazed up at her, "... they killed Rodrigo Sanchez during the raid."

No. Killed? No.. no, no, no, the Americans... they... Alfred. Two days ago, two days she could've... "God.." She cried out, clutching her head and sinking down to the floor. If she had maybe just been faster, she could've... she could've been there... and she could've died. Weighing out the possibilities she supposed the Lord may have had other plans for her. Maybe there was a reason she was two days late to the raid. "Were... were they all killed?"

"No. But many were. At least half escaped to whereabouts I am unsure of. The General was one of the other half that were killed." He poured a cup full of warm milk and handed it to her, but she didn't feel like drinking or eating anything now. Her stomach had turned and she felt sick. Of everything she had gone through, of everyone she had lost. Of all the faces that flashed in her mind over and over again and all the pain and suffering she had been put through. There was a war away from the war, and she had lived it. She had seen death. She had seen love. She had seen the good and the bad and reaped the rewards of both. These German soldiers, they are the epitome of her life as it was and as it had been. Every time she would get close to finding happiness, to finding the ending of her suffering, a new road would begin, a new aching problem for her to solve and stick her neck out on the brick for.

No.

She was done with this. Screw the safety. Screw the privileges. Screw everything good and sane that she religiously followed her whole life. Screw it all. Elizabeth placed the cup on the floor and stormed out of the house, despite the old man's shouts and pleas. Stomping right past the German soldier she found the hill he spoke of quite close. Of course, the soldiers were not prepared for this and quickly began shouting at her. "Halt! Sie sind nicht berechtigt zu sein da oben!" The first German soldier shouted, waving at her and snarling. "Ich sagte zu stoppen!" But she ignored their orders. They were just men. Men playing dress up. The horrors she had faced made her unafraid of them and their pointy hats. Their vicious frowns and their thundering brogue. They were no longer the demons that plagued the papers, they were no monsters, no savages that stole children in the night. Simply, they were men following orders, trained to do their job. And that was all they were. And those men were given guns.

A shot was fired to the left of her as she was already halfway up the hill. Stopping, she turned around, wide eyed as four German soldiers aimed at her from the bottom. "Kommen Sie langsam zurück. Und wir werden nicht erschießen." They were far away... far enough away that she'd have a chance. So she ran. And she ran hard. Ignoring the cramping of her muscles she tripped up the hill as the guns went off, hitting trees and causing the bark to blow off of the trunks. The dirt spat by her feet but never did she feel the sting of any bullet. The pain grew from only the cramps in her legs, the headache from the blood that ringed in her ears and the lungs that were scratchy with sharp pain.

Then the base camp came into site. The towering gate was surrounded by German soldiers, unaware of the chaos down the hill. Metal bars made up the gate along with barb wire and concrete. It was sturdy as well as a wonder at how it managed to be taken down. This was only a mere second of her attention however, for the soldiers were racing up the hill after her, firing bullets, one actually hitting a bottle of water off a automobile hood. Now the Germans at the gate were very much aware. Looking back, she could see the wild blood lust on their faces. She didn't even know what she was planning. To storm in there? Be taken? Be hanged? She was a petite English woman storming right into a German base camp. _What was she thinking?_ Suddenly her breath got thrown from her lungs as she looked back to only slam into a very tall soldier. He had no idea what hit him at first, in fact, when he turned around he quickly helped her off the ground, brushing her off and not paying attention to his enraged subordinates. Once he did get a clue however he shouted an order and the soldiers skidded to a stop, immediately saluting and going stiff.

_This man must be important, _She thought, finally looking up to her rescuer. He was radiant. That was the first thing she noticed. Radiant, and Aryan, with rich blonde hair and striking blue eyes. A stern face, but no at all unkind like the other soldier. "Are you alright, ma'am?" He said in a deep German brogue. She nodded to him and he nodded back. Clearing her mind, she straightened herself, much to his surprise and stated.

"I wish to speak to whoever is in charge." He blinked, staring at her with amused confusion.

"I apologize ma'am, but that is not an option."

"And why not?"

"My authority.. he's a very busy man. And does not have time for villagers."

"I am obviously not a villager! I'm English."

"Even worse. Listen, you seem very nice, I don't want you to get hurt." A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder. She flinched away in anger.

"Look here, I honestly don't care for your concern. I have gone through Hell and back to get here, almost died more times than I can count and dammit," why were there tears in her eyes!? There shouldn't be tears there!, "if you have one ounce of trust in your body, please... spare it for me." She looked down, closing her eyes wiping the access water from them. "Please..." A few soldiers had gathered beside the Aryan, looking down on her with their goddamn sympathy. But no sympathy was more evident than that within the Aryan's blue eyes. He whispered something in German to the man beside him and the soldier's face contorted.

"Kapitän Ludwig! Sie können nicht ernst sein?!"

"Ich bin. Jetzt begleiten sie zu meinem Bruder Büro sofort." The soldier beside Ludwig growled and stayed put.

"Ich bin nicht immer eine andere verbale Auspeitschung von General Beilschmidt!" Ludwig's brow furrowed, placing a gentle hand on her back and escorting her into the fort. But not before snapping towards the soldier.

"Sie werden für Ihre Inkompetenz sowieso bekommen festgezurrt." As she was directed through the camp, she could see the blood stains on the ground and the bodies lined up against the Eastern wall. Every eye was on her, and no eyes were distracted. "You must understand, ma'am. They... have not seen a woman for a long time..." He stated quietly as she heard his men follow behind him in step. They picked up pace through the courtyard and finally towards several concrete-constructed buildings. Taking a deep breath in, she entered the concrete fortress along with Ludwig and a few other soldiers, guards lining the hallways and German flags replacing American ones. It was terrifying, she would not be so naive to deny that. Her nation was strictly at war with the Germans so to be English in itself was a danger.

When the turned into a corridor lined with rooms on either side, a center room was where they walked her into. Within, the walls were still white and rimmed with steel. Everything was bare minimum and very bland. But she supposed being in the front lines required such. But even so, compared to the lavishing rooms she had been use to, it only added to the tension. There was a desk and the front of the room, however, no man sat at it. Instead, several men gathered around the room, talking and chattering about the war. In one of the groups stood a very interesting looking man. He had silver hair like an elder yet wore the face of a young man. His eyes were red, signifying the albino trait she had encountered once at an orphanage. But that time was very different form now. Now, she had to act proper in order to keep living, not to avoid her knuckled being bruised.

Ludwig called out towards the man and he turned, his eyes cold with their blood shot hue. She didn't trust this man, he wreaked of murder and as he strolled over to them he narrowed his eyes at her and then to Ludwig.

"Brother?" The albino inquired. Ludwig nodded.

"May I see you in a more private setting, General?" _The albino was Ludwig's brother?_

The General nodded, shouting something to the group of men he was with earlier and then following Ludwig through a door to the right, Elizabeth following closely behind. "So I assume you are going to inform me on who this is?"

"I don't know her name, so not properly at least."

"Ludwig, you better have a good explanation for th-"

"Sir, I asked to see you." They both stared at her, Ludwig going stiff as soon as she interrupted his brother. But the General just smiled sadistically, strolling towards her, his pale hands resting behind his back.

"You wanted to speak to me? And my brother just let you in?"

"He's a very kind man for doing so, sir."

"And you are too polite for your own good." _Was that a threat?_ She kneaded her lip and sucked in a deep breath.

"I... I need to speak to you about the Americans you had raided two days ago." Elizabeth took note of the sparkle in the General's eye at the reminder of the raid. He must have had such fun killing those soldiers...

"Oh? And what will you give me in return?"

"Brother.."

"No, it's alright, Mr. Ludwig, sir." She nodded, turning towards the General. "I have nothing in return, General Beilschmidt, and for that I am dreadfully sorry."

"Well if you don't have anything to give me, then why should I give you my knowledge? Hmm?" He turned away, waving towards his brother. "You have wasted enough of my time. Send her off."

"_Wait!_" She cried out, the General slowly looking over his shoulder. "I... I have a story."

"A story?"

She nodded. "A very tragic and very true story... of betrayal... and loss. Of love and rape and killing."

"I don't think a story will suffice, little girl. And your tragic past is of no interest to me."

"Brother..." Ludwig whispered to him. "... you should listen to her?"

"And why on this blood-soaked earth should I do that?" The Aryan eyed his brother, being returned with the rolling of the General's red eyes. She nodded, continuing.

"It is a true tale, and yes, it is my own. No length has it been stretched nor any words tampered..." Licking her lips she paused, "... and at one point... I will tell you how I died and returned to the living."

"There is no amazement in this, dear girl-" a slap on the back of the head ended the General's annoyance. Or maybe heightened it.

Elizabeth, with all her strength, looked the General in those battle-soaked eyes, and with a long breath, began the tale. She told him of how an orphan was caught in the mud, of how a Scottish night saved her. How that night made her love him and gave her his love in return. How she wed him despite the pleas for sanity of everyone she knew. She told them of the night the American soldier entered her life bearing the tragic news of her husband's brother's death, and how that sent him into a dark world full of alcohol and depression. How she was beaten and raped by the man she shared vows with. How she watched as her husband tore her new family apart limb by limb until finally she wanted to end it all... and for a moment, she had. And then there was the American. The soldier that saved her from the war of her heart, and yet at the same time created anew. She explained how she eloped with him and on Christmas day, how her husband had cracked and hunted the both of them until she was sent off against her will to stay "safe". The Italian, the British and French soldiers, how she almost died, frozen to the ground. She told them all of it, and they listened without an expression on their faces.

When she was finished, Ludwig was silent, her words hanging in the air. "I am sorry for you, ma'am." The Aryan nodded, glancing over at his brother who's darkened features seemed unaffected.

"I am not." He stated simply. "You do realized that death surrounds us, right? You are in your nation's enemy camp and all you have to share with me is a washed-up sob story that I've heard over a hundred times and lived a hundred times worse over?"

"Brother, let me just take her to our border. It won't hurt anyone."

"You can't be serious, Ludwig, have you gone soft as a kitten!?"

"I have not gone soft. But of all the troubles and puzzles and problems that have slain us, we can fix this one."

"What, so it's our fault she has a fool's sense of hopeless romanticism?"

"Gilbert, I know the direction they headed..." Elizabeth's eyes instantly shot towards Ludwig. Gilbert sighed angrily.

"This is because of Sanne, isn't it?" his brother remained silent. "you want to help her because you are reminded of that pathetic girl in Belgium, isn't that right?" Ludwig hung his head low.

"Whether it is or it isn't because of that. What harm would it bring?"

"Other than giving the enemy an opportunity to follow you back to our camp? Oh, none at all, dear brother." The sarcasm bit cruelly at Ludwig's ankles. But Gilbert's expression softened as he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. "... I will permit it." Both of their eyes shot towards the albino, full of confusion. "This war is a lost cause anyways. I was going to let you know on a lot later notice, brother, but... I suppose today will have to do." Ludwig stared at him bemusedly. "I will be signing an armistice with the French in two mornings. We are out of rations, and used the rest of our major ammunition stock in the raid. We are out of money, out of time, and out of spark, Ludwig. It is over." The brothers stared solemnly at each other when Ludwig finally gave a long sigh and nodded.

"We will speak of this later I suppose?"

"Very much so. Now go on, before I change my mind." There was an air of understanding between the brothers, Ludwig's eyes shining in gratitude as he lead her from the room and gestured to two other soldiers to follow. Making their way back into the courtyard, they hopped into an automobile, another soldier who was talking at the wall jumping in the driver's seat immediately. Elizabeth's heart beat pounded against her chest as they journeyed between the gates of the fort, rolling down the dirt hill and turning left to continue on to a separate road. The sun had disappeared behind a sheet of white, though, there was still enough light to see the road ahead. The murky ice pools in the ditches, the faded automobile, horse, and man tracks that littered the ground. Not to mention the swaying and aching of the claw-like tree branches, bare and skeleton-like in their winter essence... it was all... unbelievable.

Each bump in the road caused the passengers to jump into the air, Elizabeth falling against Ludwig who held her steady. "S-Sorry.." She quickly stated, directing her fragile eyes to the floor of the cart. The popping of the engine obscured such silence.

"Why?" Elizabeth blinked in surprise at the question. The elite soldier just stared.

"W-Well... I'm sure you didn't like me falling on you..."

"You had no control over it."

She stared at him for a long while. So strange, this German, being so kind to her in such an hour of need as this. He should be a demonic savage from the flyers she'd seen all around London, so why would he be so.. human? "I suppose you assumed I'd be an animal, right?"

"Ah! N-No, sir. I'm sorry. No."

"It's alright. Our people think the same. That is the tragedy of war, the rumors spread, and the enemy becomes this monster. After all these years... I would be worried if you Brits weren't corrupted with patriotism." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. The soldier's chiseled features and striking blue eyes were enough to knock any woman off her feet, but the fact that he held himself in such a dignified manor... it reminded her of Alfred.

"You're not what I would expect from a German... that's all."

"Have you ever met a German, ma'am?" He scoffed.

"Well.." she ducked her head low, "no, not exactly..." He just nodded. Rarely did this man smile or chuckle, but his calm, controlled atmosphere helped her maintain her own composure. "Mr. Ludwig, sir?.." She asked quietly, watching him perk up his head to listen. "... might I ask you something?"

"Yes. Go Ahead."

"Your brother... back there. First of all, he is very different from you..."

"He's different, yes, he takes a lot more enjoyment in his job than I do..."

"Right, well, second of all, he mentioned... he mentioned that the reason you wanted to help me was because of Sanne? What was that about, if you pardon me asking?" Ludwig paused, taking in a deep breath and turning away. She could hear him swallowing tightly, and if she wasn't mistaken, the pounding of his heart was even noticeable.

"War is a tragic thing, miss Kirkland, remember this." He was hurting, thinking about such a topic, causing her to decide to press no further. It was obvious this topic disturbed the kind soldier and that was enough for her.

The cart suddenly pulled to a stop, her eyes taking note of the extreme amounts of fog that coated the woodland. She could barely see her hand in front of her own face and make out a road leading into a ghostly void of mist. The sheets of white had grown to a twilight, and the claws truly reached for her threw the fog. "Alright, this is all we can take you. You shouldn't have to walk far until the trees leave and you come across an open stretch of fields, keep walking. Their base camp should be near there."

"Thank you, Ludwig. I couldn't have done this without you." She stated, carefully being helped out of the carriage by one of the soldiers. Ludwig nodded aboard the automobile.

"You are welcome, miss Kirkland." Once the soldier hopped back into the seat, the driver reversed, pulled left, and turned back down the road. And as she watched it disappearing into the fog like a phantom, she mulled over what had just happened. How the kind German waved to her as he disintegrated. How the beasts from the east were really just soldiers, humans, and young men applying their reluctant devotion to the country that used them. They had loved ones just like the British and the French and the Americans. They cared for their brethren and the future of their families.

And they fought for the same reason as them all.

To stay alive.

* * *

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

_Hope you guys like! We're finally rounding to a close :)_

**_Translations:_**

_(french) Elle est une enfant très malade. J'ai tendance à elle maintenant. = She is a very sick child. I will tend to her now.  
_

_(german) Nicht um zu stehen. Holen Sie im Inneren des Hauses. Gehen! = Do not be standing around. Get inside the house. Go!  
_

_(german) Halt! Sie sind nicht berechtigt zu sein da oben! = Halt! You are not allowed to be up there!_

_(german) Ich sagte zu stoppen! = I said stop!_

_(german) __Kommen Sie langsam zurück. Und wir werden nicht erschießen. = Come back slowly. And we will not shoot you._

_(german) Kapitän Ludwig! Sie können nicht ernst sein? = Captain Ludwig, you can't be serious?_

_(german) Ich bin. Jetzt begleiten sie zu meinem Bruder Büro sofort. = I am. Now escort her to my brother's office immediately._

_(german) Ich bin nicht immer eine andere verbale Auspeitschung von General Beilschmidt = I am not getting another verbal lashing from General Beilschmidt_

_(german) Sie werden für Ihre Inkompetenz sowieso bekommen festgezurrt. = You will be lashed for your incompetence anyways._


	15. Friends That Kill

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

A snap of twigs and a rabbit flew across the road. A fowl, her striped feathers springing as it took off to the air. The quietness, the silence, the absolute, unnerving peace that draped itself around the fields. Far off, Elizabeth could spot a few farm houses speckled against the dead, grey grass. Clutching her arms in a desperate attempt for warmth she just kept walking, only stopping once she heard the wooden-chain sound of a carriage with the clopping of horse hooves. Registering the noise as a mixture of hope as well as a possible threat, she went stiff as the cart full of soldiers halted itself in the middle of the road, just a few yards from her. Three of the soldiers filed out of the carriage, two staying behind on look out while the other one carefully approached her. "Can I help you madam?" English.

"Ah, y-yes. Are you from the raid in Le Coste?" The soldiers stiffened and pierced his lips, though was slightly intrigued by her similar dialect.

"I myself am not, miss. But some of m'mates are... might I ask why?" Relief drowned her mind in subconscious mirth. Finally.

"Can you take me to your base camp?" She smiled, soaking herself in happiness and completely ignoring his question. He wasn't so readily pleased.

"I am sorry miss, but a military base camp is not a place for a common woman." Elizabeth was not taken aback by this, she was not devastated what so ever. In fact, she laughed at this statement. Was this really all they could throw at her? Some questioning and skepticism? How amusing.

"I am the wife of Lieutenant Alfred F. Jones, soldier. And I am here to alert you of news of his absence. Might I please be taken to his commanding officer?" The soldier blinked at her sudden, mirthful orders. Looking back at the other soldiers who just shrugged, he turned back with a bemused face.

"You say you're Jones' wife?"

"Aye, sir."

"Prove it."

Elizabeth paused, an unamused look in her eye as she arched a brow. "He has blonde hair and blue eyes as well as a pair of specs. Stands about six-one and has a cow lick." The soldier rolled his eyes.

"I'm not convinced."

"He has a ranch in Montana, America with his brother in which case he informed me he would take me there once the war was over."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." She narrowed her eyes. "He has a buckskin bronco that he whistle trained in which he misses dearly. Now are you going to make my write a goddamn biography on my husband or are you going to allow me to deliver the message he has sent me to deliver?" The soldier, puzzled as he was, looked back once more at his comrades for help, but they looked just as bemused as he. Closing his eyes, the English soldier sighed, gesturing with his hand as he walked back to the automobile. With a high chin she followed, refusing help to get into the cart.

"I'm going to be honest here ma'am." the soldier scoffed. "I don't even know Lt. Jones. I came into this infantry just yesterday."

"Then why did you agree to bring me to the camp?" There was a spark in the man's eye as he turned to her.

"Because any woman with that much need has every right to face the grueling conditions of an army camp she rightly wants to." straightening himself she vivaciously smiled and stared ahead. "and if she dies, it rightly wouldn't be my fault either." She just kept smiling.

"Trust me, sir, the likes of this war could not even begin to describe how _grueling _the troubles that I've had to face have been"

"Broke a nail?"

"German soldiers with guns"

"Ah."

Silence.

It was a stretch to the base camp, and when they did it was just a large section of fields donated to the war effort by their owners. Within those fields were rows upon rows of tents and equipment, seeming to be much bigger than the fort in Le Coste could've provided for. Perhaps after the raid they asked for reinforcements? Stopping the carriage beside a row of tired horses, all eyes of a passer-by locked upon the seemingly radiant woman. With her ivory skin and glowing blonde hair, the female-denied soldiers couldn't help but stare as she was walked through the camp. The Englishman tipped his hat to a few gents as they passed, some even forgetting to tip back so distracted as they were. The Germans weren't nearly as unfocused as these men... perhaps that is because they had just raided an ally camp, and perhaps that's the reason they were able to take the camp in the first place... but even so. It never was less flattering and at the same time annoying.

"Wait here." The Englishman state, sitting her down on a bench outside by what looked to be a make shift dining hall, attention still on her. But something very odd gleamed in the corner of her eye.

Golden hair.

This wouldn't be a problem, she'd simply just turn away... if it happened to not look like Alfred standing behind a few groups of mingling soldiers. The man laughed... it was his laugh. God, his eyes, his smile. She shook her head, seeing if she was imagining anything. And yet he was still there. "_ALFRED!_" She cried out suddenly, springing from the bench the soldier had told her to stay on. Tripping on her dress she shoved past a passing group of soldiers, shocked faces of no importance to her. "Alfred! Oh god..." As she finally made contact to Alfred, her lips met his as she jumped into his arms. God, she could feel his heart racing, feel his arms his warmth. The same radiance he carried ever since she met him. Cackles and laughs came from behind her as well as whistling, though she had not a care in the world, pressing her face to his chest. His strong, strong chest.

But... there was something off about him. His stance, his height, no no, everything was the same. Perhaps it was because he never hugged her back... perhaps because when she kissed him... he never kissed her back. He didn't pick her up when she leaped into his arms, he didn't hold her close so she felt secure. In fact... he flinched back, smiling awkwardly. "A-ah! I-I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm not Alfred.." His face was a strong blush, blue eyes wide... but they were his eyes. Everything about that face was Alfred's...

"You... but you are Alfred. You.. you look like him." Fixing his glasses he backed away, waving his hand.

"I-I'm afraid I'm not." regaining his composure neath the snickering soldiers, he stated,"Alfred is my brother... t-twin brother actually..."

Matthew. He was suppose to be in Montana. "Y-You're Matthew?" She backed away, realizing suddenly she had just kissed her husband's brother... and now she was red.

"I apologize. Are you..." he cleared his throat, "a courtier of Alfred's?" He smiled that friendly smile... all too similar to Alfred's. He was an exact replica of the brave man she was to be wed to. Even the hair was the same and the skin color, the smile the creases neath his eyes from laughter. It felt like she had just been struck by a stake through the heart as she placed a hand to her bosom.

"I'm... his fiance." Matthew's eyes grew wide.

"Oh. W-Well then where is Alfred anyways?" He searched around behind her, the snickering soldiers from before going back to their business. There was no other radiance in the camp... none. "Certainly you couldn't have come on your... own...?" Matthew's gaze turned to worry as he looked to her in question. But she couldn't bare to look into those familiar eyes. Too familiar. And the questions he asked...

She could not cry.

In a camp full of soldiers, she could not cry. Elizabeth had to stay strong. For Alfred. "I'm not sure actually." Sucking in a deep breath she continued, "he stayed in my estate for a long while... and... we fell in love. But then... then Alfred just had to be the hero. And he sent me away with nothing but a coat, a ring box stuffed with a note... and this iron nut." holding up her hand delicately, she allowed Matthew to examine the metal.

"This note, do you still have it?"

"I left it on a French carriage. Alfred told me to find the Le Cateau base camp with his infantry. He said it would be the safest place for me until he returned. I was handed over to the French and they wanted to take me south instead, so I snuck off into the woods where I was saved by a Le Coste villager.." She closed her eyes, remembering everything. "But by that time, your camp had been taken two days before."

"You're joking." She looked up at him, her eyes brimmed with liquid. "Are you telling me you escaped the Germans?"

"Actually.. they helped me."

"They helped you!? Even though you're English?"

"Strange, I know. But there was a German by the name of Ludwig that sympathized for me. He had lost someone very dear to him in the war so he knew what I was feeling. He convinced his brother and commander to escort me to the edge of the woods... I walked the rest." A sigh escaped her lips, "and so I stand here..."

"And so you do, incredible." Matthew stared at her, amazed at her survival through the battlefield. It was refreshing to find someone who fully believed her words. Even if that someone painfully wore the face of her lover. "Tell me, what of the danger did Alfred save you from?" Elizabeth stayed silent, staring at a tuft of frozen grass beneath Matthew's boot.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't have the heart to talk about it right now..."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes... it's just..." she studied him once more, kneading her lip, "... your face..." Matthew's eyes shifted into understanding and he nodded with a smile.

"I understand."

"Miss! Oh blimey, I'm sorry Matthew, sir." A hand grasped her shoulder a little tightly, pulling her back. "is she bothering you? I told her to stay on the ben-"

"No, no, it's quite alright, friend. This is Alfred's fiance." Matthew defended.

"Really?" The Englishman eyed her precariously," she told me she was his wife..."

"I needed to get to the camp..." she pleaded.

"You little lying-"

"Excusez-moi? What is going on here?" Came a thick, French accent. Strolling carelessly down the isle of tents, a high-chinned officer made his way into view. He wore a dark blue uniform with shoulder-length, shaggy blonde hair. He held himself with such an air of finesse that it grew harder and harder to believe this man was a high-ranking officer on the front lines. The Englishman's hand softened on her shoulder as a look of utter annoyance crossed his face.

"Colonel Bonnefoy, sir. I have this under control."

"Oh obviously.." he jested in a contradicting tone, "tell me, why is such a gorgeous delicacy in my camp?"

"_It's not your-_" the Englishman took a deep breath, "she claims to be a lover of a Lieutenant Alfred Jones and is harassing Sergeant Matthew Jones here. She's a complete nut, sir, mind you."

"_The_ lover. I'm not just an ignorant courtesan off the English streets." Her eyes narrowed, "Which is obviously more than I can say for you..." His face turned stone cold as the gathered troops began exploding in laughter, making awed faces at the scene. Even the Frenchman's brows shot up, impressed by her tenacity. "I am not a complete nut, nor a nut in general, mind _you._ And I'd appreciate it if you'd not treat me in such a disrespectful manor." Dear god she's become an aristocrat..

"Well, you've heard the woman, Sergeant. Now stop harassing her." Bonnefoy chuckled, shooing the Englishman to the crowd. Winking at her he stared off at the soldier, his gleaming face cast pasty against the dim light. She felt a presence loom over her shoulder.

"If you are looking for Alfred's commander... that would be Francis now. General Sanchez is dead, I assume you've heard." She nodded.

"He's a little... effeminate for his ranking, don't you think?"

"Everyone would agree with you. But unlike everyone, I do like him. He's an interesting man, and very kind, just, be weary of him.." Be weary of him... be careful. He isn't right in the head they said, the alcohol, the booze. She could feel the hit, a shout, a shot in the air as the horse hooves sprinted through the mud. _Alfred! _she had screamed at the top of her lungs without the return of a single look back. Helen. God, was she even alright? Her blood pooling on the floor. _Oh god. _She could see her eyes sunken in because no one ever dare look at the manor again. It was haunted they said. Haunted by the Kirkland ghosts added by the proud lion of the war. His eyes so judging above those stairs. Stairs. Running up those stairs as he clawed at her, ready to lock her up and chain her and do horrible things to her. Angus had fallen. God, he had hit the ground hadn't he? The big giant had smacked the ground, and now his blood was pooling and soaking the snow. Pink snow. Pink snow and another ghost in the halls.

Would Alfred be added with those ghosts? To that trophy of apparitions walking aimlessly through the halls? Or was he alone since he was not a Kirkland? Because of her he could've died alone... he could've died. He's dead. His blue eyes never sparkling again, never a smile on his face but instead an indifferent lip, a death-frozen mouth never to laugh or sing again. She would die for his horrible singing. If she could've just heard it one more time.. blue eyes. Blue eyes that stared at her now, fading into the blackness. But there were more eyes than just Alfred's... there was Helen's and Angus'. There was Geir's and Gavan's. Arthur she could even see staring down at her in worry... and those faces faded with the hands on her back... and her world went black.

When she woke up, she was in a cot of a tent. To the right of her she saw Alfred and her heart thundered in her chest... only to remind herself that it was only Matthew. His legs crossed and reading a book, he glanced at her and hurried to her side. "You're awake. Good."

"What... did I fall asleep?"

"You fainted, actually."

"Lovely."

"You should've seen the rest of the troop's faces." faces.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to make you worry.."

"Oh, it's no trouble. If anything, protecting you gives us something to do."

Elizabeth smiled softly. "... you sound exactly how Alfred described you..." Matthew stared at her a while, making her look down self-consciously, "well, I must've made a marvelous first impression on your commanding officer." Alfred's brother suddenly paled and grinned awkwardly.

"Well, ehm. Actually, he took great fulfillment out of you passing out. Played the heroic romantic offering to give you mouth to mouth. Of course, we restrained him but... you know... soldiers who haven't seen a woman in a while get a little strange in the head... and other parts."

"I'm not quite sure if I want to meet him now..." She laughed nervously.

"Ha, he's not really that bad. He's just.. really friendly. Especially with women. But when you need him there, he'll be there, so you can't disregard him."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Alright, good." Chuckling he offered a cup of water beside the bed to her which she took gratefully. "Are you able to move around?"

"Yes. I only feel as if I had taken a nap."

"Very well. Because you shall be meeting Colonel Bonnefoy after you finish that water."

"Well in that case I'm finished."

"Now, now. I'm not stupid. Drink!"

"You drink! I'm not thirsty, Alfr-" she paused and their faces fell. "I'm sorry... I'm still trying to get use to this."

"It's alright. I told you, I understand."

The two shared a look of compassion, her vision finally registering another person behind Alfred's eyes. This man, so kind like Alfred, so handsome and hypnotizing like him. But neath the painfully familiar mask lies a man quite different in personality. Yes, now she could see it, the arms thinning, the lankiness of his slouch instead of the proper upright form of Alfred. His eyes shifted uneasily of everything, not like Alfred's confident gaze ready to look any danger in the eye and spit on its boot. Yes, he looked like Alfred, but now that the rose-colored glasses had been dismissed, he barely held her fiance's face. Though his kindness was equal.

Once she finished the water, he gently escorted her to a rather large tent compared to the others. The canvas that draped in an octagon shape was at least seven times larger than a mere soldier's living quarters, it even connected to another row of smaller tents. It was obvious this held a very important figure, and for a moment, she pondered if possibly Colonel Bonnefoy requested such luxurious shelter. She could see why the infantry didn't like him.

When they entered the tent, the canvas doors being pulled to the side by two American guardsmen, there was just him behind a desk in this massive room. Morning light filtered in through plastic, cut-out windows, dappling the compressed grass. When Colonel Bonnefoy glanced upwards from his paperwork, he flashed a charismatic smile to the two. Elizabeth curtseyed back, as polite as she could be to this odd character of a man.

It wasn't until Bonnefoy stood that she realized the full height of him either. Pasty and even more lanky than Matthew, he towered over her practically. Not a giant, but not average either, Bonnefoy had to bend down at a pressing angle to kiss her knuckles gently. "Mademoiselle, Matthew has told me you are Lieutenant Jones' wife to be?"

"Y-yes. That is true." He continued smiling, nodding to her even though she swore a flicker of . "Here, he gave me this ring." Twisting the piece of metal off her ring finger she placed it in his hand to examine.

"... a very cheap ring, no?"

"It was all he could afford at the time, besides, I honestly couldn't care less about the quality compared to the meaning behind it."

"Ah, ah of course. My apologies, Madam." Pausing, he shifted his weight on a single leg and crossed his arms. "a little bird had told me that you have a message to give me? That Alfred had told you?" Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, glancing back at Matthew for reassurance.

"I lied, sir." Bonnefoy cocked his head in confusion. So flamboyant, this man. "I lied so I could arrive at this base camp and accomplish the orders my fiance gave to me."

"And what orders were those?"

"To stay at the base camp in Le Coste and-"

"Well you wouldn't have much luck there now would you?" Bonnefoy laughed light-heartedly.

"Sir. I've been to the Le Coste camp as well as the camp I stand in before you." Bonnefoy paused from his mirth, holding himself upright, a smile dashed from his face.

"You have been to Le Coste?" He asked.

"Yes, that is what I just said."

"So how did you get out?" did he honestly think she was some ploi for the Germans? That, in her minimum apparel, she could be coated with gas or a frag? Once again, it was only a little pothole compared to the roadblocks she had come from.

"I just simply walked out, Colonel."

"That is not possible."

"I'm afraid it was."

"Sir, if I may say something," Spoke Matthew, "her story seems very accurate. She told me the gist of it last night and... I do believe her. If that means anything at all." Bonnefoy's face softened. as he glanced between the two. Then, with a dramatic sweep of the arms he sighed and pinched between his brow.

"You may stay with Matthew until I myself am assured that you are no threat to us."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"You can call me Francois, peu de beauté. I'm not ashamed of first-names unlike most of these unkempt Americans." Nodding politely, she curtseyed and escaped from the tent, Matthew following closely behind. Outside, a few soldiers stopped to snicker at them. A few made puckered lips, mocking yesterday's embarrassment and causing Matthew's face to turn a deep shade of red. Her eyes shot daggers at them, making their laughter die and their own gazes lower to their toes. They would listen to her of course, best mind them a mourning woman was no person to cross.

"Excuse me ma'am." A voice suddenly sounded from a ways away from her. Gazing upon the stout fellow, he hurried quickly towards her, waving his arm. "I apologize, but I couldn't help overhearing the rumors of my comrades." Slowly he stated, "are you perhaps... truly.. Alfred's wife?"

"I am his fiance, yes." She could see the relief wash over him as his heart sped up.

"Is he alright? Do you know where he is? He should've come back from leave by now.."

Despite the topic she maintained her composure and stated, "I apologize, but I don't know his condition at the moment. Nor where he is." The man's face contorted in confusion. Elizabeth saw how big is urge was to ask her why, but with her answer he knew it would not be right. And for that, she silently thanked him.

"Hey, listen. Lunch will be served in a bit, if you'd like, I could introduce you to his surviving platoon members over a nice sloppy gruel..." Matthew eyed the man wearily behind Elizabeth's shoulder, the stout man returning the gaze. "Matthew."

"Brody." Elizabeth eyed the two and then back to Brody who gazed at her expectantly. "Ah, I-it's okay, Ms. Elizabeth. I must tend to artillery anyways."

"Oh don't you always?" Brody muttered and Matthew's face fell. It was obvious that there was feuding between the original soldiers and the newer recruits. The fact that Matthew approved of Francis probably didn't help either. "Ma'am, let me show you what it means to be a Le Coste camp boy." The stout man sneered, gently taking her hand and kissing it. Matthew's face tensed.

"Only if Matthew can come too." Brody's eyes flared but his face remained indifferent.

"Yeah... sure. I don't mind. The boys might. But I don't."

"He's Alfred's brother, I'd assume you- or they- would be more friendly to him-"

"It's quite alright, Miss Elizabeth," Matthew hurriedly stated, but Brody was becoming defensive.

"Look, just because he gots Al's face don't mean he's likeable. He's just a frenchie with a mask." The Boston accent was suddenly extremely noticeable as the short man's face blazed red. "And if you actually like that perverted twit, you ain't on my side." She couldn't tell if he was speaking to her or Matthew but it granted her with a heavy heart to see such loathing of allies.

"We're both on the same side, friend. I'm from the same nation as you and fighting for the same cause." Suddenly Brody pushed past Elizabeth, scrunching up his face and attempting to stand taller to spit at Matthew

"I ain't your friend, I ain't your pal, your buddy, chum or mate. So don't fucking call me that." Elizabeth pushed between the two men, shoving Brody off of Matthew then straightening herself as they both did the same.

"Stop it! Christ, could you be ever more immature?!" She hissed, their mouths instantly shutting. "Now are you going to take us to your platoon, or aren't you?" Brody narrowed his eyes, revealing the contemplating so heavily set within. She watched as his eyes shifted from the two, then-after settling upon Elizabeth- he spun silently on a heel and strolled away, one hand gesturing to follow.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

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_ love you guys! Thank you for all your support in this fanfic! 3 3 3  
_


	16. Muckrakers Never Die

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

As they approached, the men chattering instantly frowned and shot eyes towards her and Matthew.

"Oi. What you doin' with dat eejit, Brody?" Growled one man, his eyes puffy with bags. Several of the men appeared wounded in some way or the other. Bandages wrapped tightly around foreheads or patches around the facial features, the men definitely looked like they had just barely escaped with their lives. One even was leaning against a cane.

In reply to the soldier's statement, Brody just sat himself down on a log and said with out a single glimpse," This is Al's wife. She dragged 'em along." Warming his hands by the fire, Elizabeth confidently sat down next to the soldier with the cane, making him scoot over so Matthew could sit. But he just frowned and shook his head.

"Ah, yer Al's wife." The limp soldier snickered. "Tell me, is he as good in bed as he bragged?"

"_He _bragged!? Boy, it was the nurses that bragged." A pudgy soldier across from them held the back of his hand to his forehead and swayed, "they swooned over him like a buncha' does in heat! And from what I heard..." he leaned in with a wide grin, "... they got their swooning's worth."

"Could you please control yourselves and show a little respect." Elizabeth scolded, pouring herself hot tea from a kettle hanging above the fire. They stared at her in shock, a few smirking in amusement. Brody wasn't.

"Oh. I'm sorry, my queen of England, is the tea hot enough for you? Or maybe it's too bland, or _maybe _your poor little hands are burning because it's too hot. Or if you're cold I could definitely warm you up.."

"Marcus. Put a lid on it." Brody snarled behind his cup.

"What, I'm just sayin' miss fancy dressens and dainty feet could be prickly causa' the cold. Could see them pees on her bosom a mile away-" Suddenly Matthew lunged forward towards Marcus, men scattering to get out of the way of the two quarreling bodies. Marcus found Matthew's collar though, sending the lanky man to the ground only to be propped up by two of the soldiers. His face bore Alfred's, yet that same face was obviously in pain as Marcus' fist found Matthew's stomach.

"_Is this really what the US military is about?!"_ she screamed through the commotion, Matthew glancing a scrunched face to Elizabeth as they stared at her in annoyance. "Alfred told me how proud he was of his men. The glory of fighting along side his trusted comrades in battle and having kinsmen ship when family could not be provided. He told me of how America charged in on their white horses and beaming faces to save Europe. If I had thought for but a second that you would be beating one of your own men who hadn't provoked you in the slightest, _Alfred's brother _of all people, for following someone you have no faith in," She scoffed in disgust, "then I would've just been taken by the French or the Germans. I would've asked for my wrists to be shackled and dragged to wherever. I've been through hell. Where they'd take me would not compare in the least. So what I'm asking is; are you _really_ worth my time!?" They stared at her, many of their faces softening and looking down in guilt while a few just pondered the idea. Marcus, rolling up his sleeves, was obviously not happy with her words and approached her in a threatening manor.

As he towered over her, he rolled his lip over yellow teeth, "those are big words for the only woman in a camp full of lonely men, princess."

Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes to meet him nose to nose,"My big words only shed truth on how small and pathetic you really are." Eyebrows shot up and Marcus seemed taken aback, "did I stutter?" She hissed. But he only backed away, covering his mouth with a grimy hand, and of all things, trying to hide a smile. The attempt was useless as he burst out laughing, the rest of the men bending over in mirth as Matthew was released onto the cold ground. "What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing, I can see why Alfie fell for you. Not only do you have the looks of an angel, but you have the tongue of devil!"

"A serpent she-beast." A man shouted out.

"By the heavens, oh lord oh mighty, we have Medusa in our midst." Another man answered.

Her brows furrowed as she rushed to help Matthew off the ground. "Are you all senile!? Is an injured man just some big joke to you!?"

"You must forgive us, Mrs. Jones." Brody chuckled, "Mattie here'll clean up nice with a few bruises and cuts. But he'll be alright. It's how us men do things around here, we can't just talk things out like wherever the hell you came from. When we see blood every day, it's not exactly a taboo anymore."

"We aint some diplomatic fanny-cat, M'lady." Marcus snickered. "you wouldn't understand, none. You being just a woman and all. A beauty like you shouldn't even be here.." The heavy-set man just grinned wickedly, rubbing his knuckles. She looked away, too angered and fuming to look him in the eye. Rolling her lip, the silent poison began taking affect of the men as they slowly killed their laughter.

"Right... my apologies..." She nodded calmly, walking up to Marcus, her eyes lowered. "It is not my place to question how 'men' do things. My husband enforced that on me until I ran my mind into the ground..."

"Alfred?"

"No." She flashed a smile, looking up at Marcus with a flare of defiance. "Alec Kirkland." The soldier lowered to the ground instantly, clutching his nose now smothered in red. Hopping back and forth she shook her hand in agony, expecting Marcus' friends to react to what she had done. But incredibly, they just applauded her, whistling and chuckling. Matthew seemed just as confused, achingly standing as she made her way to him.

These soldiers were disgusting.

As the men rattled on jokingly, not seeming to give a lick of sorrow or weariness to Alfred's possible fate or their own predicament, she sat there beside Matthew, sucking up the horrid porage-like substance. When it was time for the soldiers to get back to training and assuming their rightful positions, Matthew got up to help Elizabeth back to his tent.

"Matthew," she said softly, shifting her gaze cautiously to him, his eyes flicking to her curiously.

"Yes, Mrs. Jones? Is something wrong?"

"No, I was just.. I just wonder..." He cocked his head bemusedly, "... you... you are a man like the rest of these soldiers. So why aren't you like them? Why are you so kind and polite to me?" It seemed like Matthew needed some time to think about this, gazing around unceremoniously.

"Uhm. Well, I guess I just am not like other men." He snorted, "hell, I'm far from my brother besides looks. While the boy would run off to behead some snake or chase a coyote, I waited at home and read a good book. He liked to play in the mud, I played in the tub. While he marveled over his gun collection, I marveled over my insect collection. You could say I have no interest in shedding my humanity for supposed 'fun', Mrs. Jones..."

"So does that make you... I mean. You aren't really like the normal man so... are you..?" She swallowed as his face brightened red and laughed.

"Are you implying I might be a bender?!"

She laughed loudly her own face now turning pink, "W-well, I don't know. You have a queer way of carrying yourself."

"Like a gentleman."

"A very effeminate gentleman..." As she muttered he just laughed light-heartedly, not aiding her in any doubts. Any one of these other men would grow angry and snarling towards her if accused with such a statement as this, but he seemed almost unphased.

"Well I can assure you, Mrs. Jones, I am absolutely for women. But surprisingly, that's not the first time the question has been asked to me."

"Who asked you before me?" She asked curiously.

"Oh, let's see... there was my father, and my brother. Not to mention several soldiers throughout my military days."

"Ah.. I-I'm sorry if I insulted you at all."

"Not to worry. You didn't. In fact, it's good to laugh in times like these." Glancing away from Matthew, Elizabeth focused on the tent ahead, the fading sun darkening the world ever so slightly. Lanterns made the tents glow as the silhouettes of the soldiers moved around within. Their tent was very dark in contrast however, and as they approached it became clear that a man was waiting for them there.

"Colonel Bonnefoy, sir." Matthew sounded, snapping a salute instantly. "You wanted to see us?" He asked. The blonde-haired Frenchman smiled warmly and nodded, turning his strikingly blue eyes to Elizabeth.

"I'd like to see the madam in my tent in an hour, can you make sure that happens, Monsieur Jones?"

"Uh.." he glanced at Elizabeth with a bit of worry in his gaze. "Would you like me to escort her?"

"No, no, it's fine." She could've sworn there was a hint of warning in the colonel's voice. "Just make sure she appears in my tent on the hour."

"Yes sir." He nodded, swallowing as Francois smiled, turned, and disappeared behind a row of tents. Elizabeth immediately turned to Matthew.

"Matthew, what was that all about?"

"Uh.. it shouldn't be a problem. Really. Don't worry about it." Uneasily, he turned into the tent and started up a lantern, but Elizabeth followed in hot pursuit.

"Matthew! By telling me not to worry, you're making me worry! You're telling me the truth right?"

He paused, licked his lips and then gazed down at her. "Yes. Now um... find something to wear... I'm sure the colonel doesn't want you in such casual clothing." Elizabeth still didn't believe him, the uneasiness in his voice proved her doubts, but even so, it was only a reminder of where she was and who she was with. This wasn't Alfred. Matthew was a gentleman yes, but he was also very law-abiding and wouldn't risk his rank for her, unlike Alfred. If she was threatened in any way, she was uncertain if Matthew would come to her rescue or not. "He just wants to have dinner with his formal 'guest'. That's all."

"Are you sure?"

"_Positive. _Would I lie to you, Elizabeth?"

"To be frank, I haven't known you long enough to tell." Matthew smiled and clutched his heart in jesting pain.

"You are cruel, madam."

She smiled, "so I've been told," It didn't take long until the night fell completely silent save the soft merriment of the men far on the opposite edge near the trenches. Actually, more and more she noticed how maze-like it was around their camp, the hills riding on each edge of the boundary having little ant holes of men on lookout. There was no green in the area, nor was there snow, for the bombs and the warfare had all uprooted any natural greenery that maybe once was abundant. Now, just murky brown and grey soaked the scenery peppered with the ornate rows of white tents painted dark blue neath a covered moon. Matthew had fallen asleep fast, so she had to manage zipping herself up into the old, mud-washed gown she had arrived in; for it was her nicest. As she exited the tent, she took care to step over the mass mud piles around her and stay hushed between the tents of sleeping soldiers.

When she finally came into view of the massive circus-like tent, the canopy dipping inwards like an invert spider web, her heart beat fast. She couldn't tell if she trusted this man or not. Alfred's men don't, but they also don't trust Alfred's brother... and his brother trusts the colonel immensely. The man she was suppose to put all her faith in was embedded with led and probably resting in a row of bodies stored back at La Cateau, if not set ablaze. But then again, she couldn't say for certain if life could ever work out perfectly, at least for her.

The flickering of soft candles greeted her as she entered the canvas doors. Tables set up around the tent held at least one candle, flickering and dancing with its brethren. In the center, a large round table sat with two chairs and two candles, a meal of steak set on both sides. How Francis could afford steak meals out here, she didn't know, but they look incredible. Behind the table, the colonel was lighting a few more sets of candles before he paused, turned over his shoulder, and presented a warm smile to her. She hesitantly smiled back, curtseyed, and carefully took her seat, only to have the colonel rush to her and pull the chair out for her. Taking the seat opposite of her, he smiled, "does the meal fit your satisfaction, mademoiselle?" He asked in a gruff tone. The tinging of her utensils against the plat halted as she looked up, nodded with a smile, and began cutting her meat once more.

"It looks incredible, Monsieur Bonnefoy." She took a savoring bite. "and it tastes just as so." He smiled, grabbing a wine bottle from the table behind him and pouring their cups full of a dark red substance.

"I am glad you are satisfied with the food. Are you as so with my camp?" Taking another bite and swallowing before looking up, she smiled sweetly.

"I must be honest, sir. I don't know anything about living around a military, let alone the limited resources associated with such lifestyle. Asking me would not exactly birth the most accurate results."

"Even so." He said, gesturing with his pale hand, "are they accommodating enough?"

She paused, her heart beating. He had such fantastically blue eyes, Elizabeth would be lying if she said Colonel Bonnefoy was not completely mesmerizing. The man was practically sex on legs and his accent was not as dirty as the French soldiers of before. She took a sip from her wine glass, soaking in the rich, aged taste. "As a last minute military camp goes... I'd say it's quite proficient."

"Proficient." He repeated, mouthing the word with his curvacious lips. "such extravagant words for a young woman."

"I was raised well, monsieur."

"Obviously. Which means all the more to me, I suppose you are asking why I brought you here, madam?"

"I was curious.."

"Of course you were." Standing, he held his wine glass between his fingers as he strolled around her, "well, you are a very intelligent woman, Madam Jones. A woman so finely gathered as yourself must know a little thing or two about getting what she wants."

"Um... I suppose, sir."

"Oh, don't be modest. There's only one reason you could've gotten this far without having your dignity stripped from you." A smile curled onto his cheeks, "... because you know how to play with men's minds."

"I'm... I'm not sure I'm comfortable with what you're implying." She gravely stated, raising from her seat and turning to view the colonel.

"You snuck your way past a German base camp that had wiped out half of the soldiers originally posted at this camp. You were able to sneak away from French soldiers determined to take you to a safe place. Now either you were really stupid for denying safety... or genius." Suddenly, a letter was tossed to her feet. As she bent over to pick it up, it unfolded to reveal that a refugee camp had been bombed to bits. Was he saying that the camp she was being taken to was that one? "I don't know if I trust you yet, madam." he suddenly said, the thing was, he was right in front of her. An almost invisible smile masked a serious face, gazing down at her with mysterious blue eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest as she pressed herself against the edge of the table. Francis breathed out, moving closer and placing his wine glass upon the table.

"T-The feeling is mutual."

"Is it?" He whispered, his hand running through her light blonde hair. As he fondled a lock, she closed her eyes and gulped, his own set on her. When she opened her eyes, they rendered his collar bones, his agape chest, his soft smile and beautiful face. He was an attractive man, unbelievably attractive, but at the same time, she was unsure she herself was attracted to him.

"M-Monsieur."

"Yes, Madam?" He cooed in a lusty tone as she felt him against her leg. The burning touch of his fingers traveling up her dress and another curious hand around her waist. She breathed out shakily, regaining her composure as he touched his lips to her alabaster neck. _Dinner for a guest my ass._ As soon as the curious hand grabbed her ass, her knee snapped upwards into his jewels as he crumbled instantly to the ground.

"_What the hell do you think you're doing!?_" She shouted, watching him turn and groan on the ground, clutching his crotch desperately. "You're disgusting. Absolutely putrid, just like the rest of these vile soldiers." Tears swelled in her eyes as her complete faith, her hope in trusting anything obliterated in that instant. Even Matthew seemed to be just another snake in the grass. Another dog murdering at his master's order, and that master was the most savage dog of them all. And to think she might've even been aroused by such actions... her self-pride had been shattered. Storming away, she was just reaching the canvas doors when suddenly a breathless laughter traveled to her ears. Cautiously, Elizabeth turned to see the man hobbling off a chair.

"Please! Wait! I swear I won't touch you." He forced his laughter even though she could hear the pain cracking his voice. "you passed, you passed! Oh mon Dieu, mes couilles.."

"I pass!? Pass what!?" She snarled.

"My trust... you pass the test." Biting a lip he smiled and released his words in breathless laughter, "... no woman of Alfred's would've let me touch them like I just did... unless you were wed to him."

"How would any woman allow you to touch them like that at all!?" She growled, insulted by his vanity.

"A painful stab. But in all due respect, I don't think it was the table that was groaning, my dear."

"You're disgusting."

"Thank you, I believe we've established that." Finally regaining his composure he leaned against the table with a smile, "listen, I truly apologize. I promise it _was_ just a test. I know Alfred Jones very well and his brother even more so. A man like that would only wed a respectable woman that wouldn't fall to temptations... no matter how appealing they may be." She rolled her eyes.

"So you're telling me you would've stopped even if I wouldn't have denied your... appeal?" She muttered with distaste.

"Don't be so disgruntled, madam, I'm a gentleman, not an idiot. And in this place, you'll take what you can get at a respectable cost."

"Well I'm flattered you have a price on my head. Are we done here?"

"No. This was just the prologue of our meeting. Please. S'asseoir." Pulling out an empty chair to the place she was sitting before, she grumbled uncouth words and sat down, Francis taking the seat opposite of her like before. "To business."

"To business.." Narrowing her she cocked her head left to view him with a disdainful glare. "You mentioned you were Alfred's friend. Please remind me how that is even possible."

"We're actually very good friends. He was issued into my legion as soon as he hit Europe. We were both just privates then, officers with no real ranking or any type of valor."

"And yet you stand before me as a colonel."

"And Alfred a lieutenant. Oui. I can't tell you how many times when I was left in the barbwire-entwined mud, your husband pulled me out. He's a man that will make it far in this war, and has already."

"I understand my husband is a saint amongst these mongrels, but once again I must ask why I'm here?"

"Because. Alfred issued you to Rodriguez's fort for protection, since the dear general is dead, I am in his place. I had to make sure you were telling the truth so I know to not just look at you like a-pardonnez-moi-whore for the men. The boys... I am not familiar with many of them. I can't trust people who defile my authority and I certainly can't trust them to respect _your _authority madam."

"I have no authority, Francis. I am simply a guest."

"You are a guest surrounded by a maze of blood-soaked, body-rotten, trigger-happy trenches in a sea of horny men." His voice was serious as he gaze at her. She swallowed.

"They are Alfred's men. They will respect him if not me."

"But he is not here. And I'm the only one who can protect you."

"With what!? Your shining medals of valor? Your charismatic attitude? Or maybe you could even protect me through just words alone seeing as every man in the camp _adores _you."

"I understand that the men do not favor me..." He warned. She closed her eyes and relaxed her broadened shoulders.

"My apologies... I shouldn't have spoken like that."

"A mistake worth forgotten. Mademoiselle, please, that is why I need your help. That very reason alone."

"_You_ need _my_ help? This isn't a declaration of protection, you want me to protect _you_!"

"Oui. The men are getting more uneasy by the day. I can feel their eyes on me every time I exit this tent. The living quarters you sit in... they are my prison, I can't leave with out the danger of a man throwing bottles at me or even snarling vicious words of hatred and threats." There was desperateness leaking off his words and she, for a very long moment felt bad for the man. "I understand if you want nothing to do with me. But if a coup does happen, I won't be the only one that will be defiled." Men swarming the tent, their angry mouths shouting with guns and sticks and fists. They'd turn ravenous for Francis' blood in a heartbeat, and all because they don't know him, don't trust him, and are drained of their consciousness... she could see it. And then she could see them clawing right past Matthew, smothering him in their fury right towards her. She had no choice but to help Francis, or she would never see Alfred again.

"Why haven't you contacted your supervisors if you feel a coup coming on? Wouldn't they be able to send in more... respected... officials?"

"I... I'm ashamed to say this, madam. But I'd rather go down as a leader by his men than be the foot soldier pretending to be a leader neath another."

"You already are." He just nodded. "This is ridiculous. Your pride over lives that could be lost. And what about your men? The men that came in with you? They would die by the same hands. Is your pride worth their lives!?"

"Of course not! Listen, I'd rather try putting the problem down myself than give a last result MayDay call to my overseeing officers."

"Well if you honestly think I'm any worth, then what do you suppose I do? You said it yourself, the men have no respect for me nor my title."

"Does that mean you're going to help me?"

"No. It certainly does not, "she spat in warning, "I'm helping my self to not getting violated and ravaged for just having this dinner with you. Much to my displeasure..." Cutting a piece of the now cool steak, she narrowed her eyes upwards. "So?" Francis smiled graciously and closed his eyes.

"You are a wise woman madam, a force truly to be reckoned with. And one that shows me respect that I obviously do not deserve." Looking upwards, his eyes shined with a grave sincerity. "Matthew will act as your guard until you win the soldiers over with yourself-and before you cut me off, please understand that I have the utmost faith in your whit as well as your capability."

"You don't think I've tried to make allies? This isn't just like playing hopscotch in the school yard you know."

"I understand. Which is why it is very crucial that _you _understand the next think and what I mean by it." He paused, licking his pink lips. "you must not be afraid to be a man, Mrs. Jones. Being a woman is what you're use to, but speaking as a man is not exactly frowned upon either. Besides... they'll see less attraction to your being and more respect for it instead."

"A man!? You want me to act like a man!? Of all the things, you have to ask me to deny myself a true gender?"

"I know it may be difficult, but mademoiselle, don't make the same mistake I have of placing pride over life." _you son of a bitch. _She thought to herself, rolling her lips in aggravation. "So, Mrs. Jones, are you ready to play dirty with the children?"

Gazing at him, full intent of showing all her loathing, she watched his eyes glimmer with hope. As much as she wanted to snap at him, to deny him any help, to gain favor of the men by muckraking the colonel ... she didn't want Alfred's friend to die. If her husband was here, he would want her to help him. But then again, if her husband was here, the men would be wagging their tails like the well-trained dogs they were suppose to be.

"I am. But Francis?"

"Yes?"

"Go fuck yourself."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

_ Yay for spicy military drama and late updates :D  
_


	17. Mouse Hunt

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

Eyes fluttering open, they searched the tent to see an empty, unmade cot and a burned out candle wick on the dresser. Of course Matthew wouldn't be here she thought bitterly. He had slunk away like he rightly should've, tail between his legs and all. For what he pulled the other night, lying about her well being, she would've had more than a few foul words to share to the soldier-that is, if he would've been awake when she returned. What she had to say could wait for the morning, she had assumed and, being tired herself, had collapsed onto the cot in exhaustion. To find Matthew not even here, wasn't all too surprising.

When she left the tent, undressing from last night's unwashed gown, she grabbed one of the dresses the soldiers had borrowed from the town over for her. The morning air was vibrantly soaked in the scent of uprooted soil and a mist covered the grey and blue air. Not a single drop of sunlight greeted her and certainly no chorus of birds. To think there was a time where she'd wake in a warm, tightly-made bed with a loving man right beside her. To think that when she looked out the transparent-clothed windows, she'd see hills of green and sheep scattered about just four paddocks away. To think she could shift in the sheets' warming embrace to the sound of the doves cooing in the branches just outside and the shouting of the children playing in the garden.

How times have changed. She was incredulous to her memory of the proud lion above the magnificent flight of stairs, his eyes so proud to the family that now was departed, separated and completely nonexistent. But there was no point in sharing memories of the past, for the past promised her a violent downfall while the future was what gave her hope. "Mrs. Jones!" Shouted Brody a ways away, a piece of cloth waving in his hand. "Ey Mrs. Jones, you mind doing me a favor?"

"Brody?" She blinked, astounded at the fact the stout man even spoke to her. "Um, yes, sure. What is the favor?"

"Listen, yer uh.. yer majesty, so, like, I don't know, I got this piece of rag and, you see, it's from my girl. And you know, I haven't seen her in more than a year and well, balls for brains Marcus got it all ripped." Showing the rag to her, she could see it was a fine cloth of silk.

"Oh, Brody... I don't know how to sew."

"Ah shit, ma'am, but you're a woman, sewing's in your blood! I know you can sew!" Her brow twitched in annoyance.

"Listen, just because I'm a woman, Brody, doesn't mean I just automatically know how to sew. I didn't have a mother nor any sisters to teach me."

"You a queer woman, Elizabeth."

"And you're a queer man. Listen, I can show you a little trick but that's all. But I'm not showing you until you address me in an appropriate manner." His face contorted.

"I called you yer majesty! What else d'you want?!"

"No sarcasm for one. My name's Ms. Elizabeth or Mrs. Jones. I know you're a big boy so please act like one." She eyed him as he glared up at her and, if it weren't such a serious moment, she'd laugh at how childish his face was. A puckered lip, crossed arms and a glare of aggravation shooting daggers at her. She felt like a scolding mother. How humorous.

"Ms. Elizabeth, could you please show me this trick of yours?"

Elizabeth grinned in achievement, gesturing for the man to follow as she turned towards her tent. She was meaning to make a keepsake of her own out of the Kirkland gown. The cloth and design was gorgeous and intricate, yet would never be able to be worn again with such damage to the tattered rims and the mud stains all around the dress. There was only a very little patch along the stomach that was untainted by her journey and, grabbing a knife from the dresser drawer, she flashed a smile towards Brody. The poor man seemed stunned that she held a knife in her hands. He had no idea that as a girl, she'd been quite handy with a knife. Before her father died, she'd been practically one of the slum boys, stealing to make a pay, taking part in a children's version of gang wars. Back then it was just a bunch of fun, never once did she actually think it would come in handy after the nuns got to her. "Ms. Elizabeth, maybe you should let me handle that."

"You honestly think that I don't know how to use a knife, Brody? Don't be so naive."

"You know how to use a knife but not a sewing needle?"

"I never was forced to use a sewing needle, Brody." His eyebrows shot up. She just smirked wickedly. Francis wanted her to be 'one of the boys'... well.. she would do just that.

Laying the dress upon her lap, she slid the knife under the desired piece of cloth and punctured the fibers carefully, slicing away the fabric at an angle. Like butter, the unwanted fabric melted away until a nearly perfect square sat upon her lap, an embroidered flower woven with the memories of a shattered life sitting right in the middle. Brody stared wide eyed at the clean cut. "How the fuck did you..."

"Please do not use vulgar slurs in my presence, Brody."

"Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am." _Well that was more like it._ Handing his cloth to hers, she registered how absolutely tattered and smothered in soil the cream-colored cloth was. It might've even been white once. The piece of cloth was made of a very fine and expensive silk, she could feel the worth between her fingers.

"What is this from?"

"Her corset."

"Oh." She blinked and placed it on her lap awkwardly. Never would she think she'd be cutting another woman's undergarments in a military camp. "Well I'd recommend finding a pint of bleach and soaking this in it if you want to bring out the original color."

"No. It has to stay the same. Untouched and untainted."

"I doubt it was this dirty before-"

"No, it was. My girl's an entertainer back in Hollywood."

"Oh." so she was fingering a courtesan's undergarments, this just keeps getting better. "Well, anyways, we're going to have to cut it smaller if that's alright."

"Well..." he struggled with the decision. "If there's no way to sew it..."

"You would probably have more luck finding a nurse. The nurses can sew."

"We don't have any nurses actually. We had to retreat in a rush and the women were instantly driven to a safer villa. We're only stuck with the medics."

Nodding she, without warning, sheared the knife across the end of the tear, the cloth peeling away into two different slices.

"Miss Elizabeth, ma'am." Brody hesitantly said from his beside her, his arm perched upon one of the tent's wooden stakes. "Why d'ya have faith in the Frenchie? If you don't mind me asken's.." This made her pause from her work, close her eyes, and breath out slowly.

"Well..." She didn't have any faith in him. He was a coward, too proud to be in the position he held and too stupid to listen to his comrades. He was a good man... but not the kind of man to be in the military. It was a wonder who promoted him to colonal. _I'm asking you to put down the coop, Elizabeth. _his voice sounded in her head, and pierced her lips.

"You know... he's not all looks and oddities, though there are many of each." He looked at her oddly. "I heard," she rolled her lips and nonchalantly looked back down at her work," he was planning on taking back the old German fort." Yes. She lied. But Brody wouldn't know that.

"What!? That pansy think we can take back the fort!? Does he got any brains in that pretty little head of his!?"

"Well, I saw a few documents when I went to talk to him last night, and sure enough the strategies were... quite impressive to say the least. You know... there is a reason they promoted him to colonel." _Because he probably bent over for every curious man that oversaw him_, "have faith in him, he knows something about that fort we don't. Here." she said, handing the new rectangle to him, no tear in sight. "Take this. And keep it away from Marcus, like you said, he has balls for brains."

Brody just stared wide eyed at Elizabeth and then the cloth. "you are an amazing woman. Just. Thank you!" Brody really was a child, for even when he ran off to his part of the camp, it seemed like 'scampering' would be a perfect way to describe the hop in his step. But before he disappeared, he halted and turned cautiously towards her, "You sure this is true, ma'am?"

"Would I have any reason to tell you otherwise?" He just smiled at this and continued with his gleeful scampering. This brought great satisfaction that she had at least made possibly a gossip breeding ground in her mission to put down the supposed coup. But this satisfaction would not last for long as Matthew came strolling into the tent from around the corner.

"Ah. Good morning, Mrs. Jones. Did you sleep well?" He smiled politely. She just glared at him sharp and dangerous.

"As a matter of fact I didn't, Matthew. But thank you for denying any type of warning to what Francis was going to pull. Really. That was quite refreshing." Her venomous disdain cracked through each word as Matthew seemed to flinch back.

"M-Mrs. Jones I-I had no idea! I swear!"

"Don't give me that, Matthew, it's insulting to question my intellect. You knew full well what Francis was going to do."

"Alright!" He cried out, putting his hands in the air, "alright. I knew that there was a danger Francis might pull something. There always is when it comes to women. But I can't oppose my superior officer, especially when he's the type of man that takes what he wants when he wants it. I-I'm sorry. He didn't... touch you... did he?"

"_What do you think, Matthew!?" _She snarled, shouting at Matthew with an enraged and violated voice. "yes he touched me! Yes he pushed me against the table and slid his hand against my rump and layed his tongue on my neck. Yes I could feel his wine-rotten breath and feel his basket against my leg! What kind of question is that!?"

"I'm sorry, I... I"

"You're sorry!? Why didn't you warn me!? Why didn't you tell me of the danger that might've gone too far if I hadn't stopped him!"

"_Because I knew you could stop him._" He replied, the two of them halting to catch their breath. His eyes were so sincere... so genuine that a glimmer of guilt almost over took her. Almost. "I knew that you had the power to stop him. You're a remarkable woman, Mrs. Jones, and your strength is the most incredible I've seen of any man let alone a woman. If he tried something, I knew you wouldn't let him go far."

"Don't try to use flattery to get out of this, Matthew."

"I'm not. It's the truth. Plain and genuine as I could ever be." She shut her mouth, kneading her bottom lip as she studied him. A sigh released from her lips.

"And you are a genuine man, Matthew. Even with this mistake being very hurtful to me... you've also shown me great kindness. You... you have stabbed me. But it's a wound that can heal and heal fast if you play your cards right."

"I will, Madam. I apologize extremely for my actions, and I understand any trust that has been lost by this." Calming herself she inhaled through her nose and looked out towards the camp, already swarming with the systematic prep work of the morning. "So..." Matthew finally spoke. "what did he say anyways?"

"Oh nothing," she sighed, grabbing the cloth she had cut out earlier and padding it neath her under garments, taking note of Matthew's blush. "just told me that I had to be a boy and how I should start acting like a soldier so I won't be raped."

"O-Oh. Um."

"He also asked me to put down the coup that's forming for his blood, so now I guess you could say I'm some inner spy or something like that."

"A spy? I wouldn't advise saying that when anyone's around, Mrs. Jones."

"I'm not daft, Matthew. Of course I wouldn't say that around the men. I'm suppose to make them my mates after all."

"Right... and how will you go about that if I may ask?"

"I... well I'm not particularly sure at the moment..."

"Mm. Great investigation work, miss 'inner spy'."

"Oh shut up. It can't be too hard. I hit it off fairly well with Brody, didn't I?"

"As well as Marcus might I add."

"He, I have lost all hope of any humanity in. But filthy brutes aren't really my target, Matthew. No, no, my targets are those who trust a lady with doe eyes far too easily."

"So you're walking into a lions den painted in lamb's blood, am I right?"

"Not if the lamb's blood is poisoned." Elizabeth smiled to Matthew who swallowed.

"You don't-you surely don't expect me too... Elizabeth I can't face a whole army to protect you. I'm not my brother and I certainly don't know you well enough to risk my life and, or ranking over you."

She let out an exasperated sigh, sweeping her arms out around her, "Matthew, the poison I'm referring to are _lies_. The most lethal venom any English serpent can create without a single wisp of remorse. But I'm so very glad I am now aware of your boundaries, Matthew."

"My apologies, ma'am."

"At least you are honest and do not use the poison I speak of like so many men would. I've already set the table, now all that takes is time, and very little of it." Turning away from Matthew, she straightened herself, held her chin high and strolled from the tent like a born aristocrat. "Come, Matthew, I do believe the serpent yearns for a good mouse hunt."

"Lead on, my lady." He chuckled, following closely behind.

oOo

It didn't take long for the rumor to spread like a rapidly contagious virus. As Matthew and her made their way around camp, there wasn't one man that wasn't tense with a weapon close at hand. When they passed the gravel road pouring down into the mud-caked trenches, almost double the men were on duty than before, and all seemed to forget their unfocused ways. The men had become soldiers again.

"_What!? __Je ne peux pas __le croire!_" Francis snarled as she stood before him. "You said I would attack the German front!?"

"I said that you would retake the Le Cateau Fort. I apologize, but that does not seem too difficult to manage, _colonel_." Quietly, she mumbled beneath her breath, "in fact, that's what you should be doing in the first place, in my opinion..."

"Madam Jones, In all due respect, you have absolutely no intellect when it comes to military rules and conditions. To make the men think... I told you to put down the coup not progress it!" She narrowed her eyes.

"Francis, I was at the Le Cateau Fort. I spoke to the German commander himself and he told me that their rations were low, their ammunition was jesting and their men were more than exhausted. These were his words. He even told me that he was going to surrender the next day."

"And yet here we are with no word of a surrender."

"Trust. Me."

Francis paused, his eyes crazed with aggravation and fear, finally turning away from her, rage leaking from his voice, "this is why women do not belong on the battlefield. They should be at home, safe, and worrying about preparing the next meal... not here."

Her face contorted. "Well I _apologize_. I didn't exactly ask to be here, colonel!-"

"No, no you didn't did you? No you were just thrust upon me by your dear husband for me to responsible for." He tossed his arms up in the air, "Oh, thank you, Jones! Really, I love having an untouchable woman who's unbelievably delirious in the mortality of yourself in my presence. _Thank you._" Francis paused instantly, sucking in breath that could be mistaken for a gasp. "était-ce à voix haute?"

Elizabeth was silent, her reddened eyes flicking towards Matthew who had the same wounded look upon his face. "Mrs. Jones... I should not have said that. I'm sorry..."

"No... no it's fine. Really." Her eyes focused upon the floor. All the colonel said was the truth, the truth that she so blatantly denied even though she knew how foolish it was. Alfred was dead. There was no possible explanation that he wasn't. "You're right... I... I've been foolish." She gave a soft, bitter chuckle, "... you know today marked the last day he said he could've returned. He told me... that in five days time... if he hadn't shown up then I should just board a ship to America, ironically to find his brother.." Mathew's eyes softened to her. "But... I'm naive. I was naive to even begin thinking he actually might be alive.. that this wing nut," she examined it and then twisted it off her finger, "would be traded out for an actual wedding ring. That I would actually be able to see the banks of New York and feel the freedom of America. Little did I know I am still just a dreaming child." She spat, tossing the ring onto the table, turning away as it rolled across the surface, "If you still need me, Francis, I'll be in the tent, awaiting the sounds of a mob."

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth wait!" Francis called out, halting as a disappointed glare flashed from Matthew's eyes. "Matthew..." He plead but even the colonel's most loyal soldier only recognized Francis with the back of his head. And the colonel conjured no words of defense, made no rationality to his speech. He just let the hair fall over his eyes and his chin dip as Matthew and Elizabeth completely disappeared from the tent, the ring missing from the table.

"Elizabeth." she could hear the sucking of his boots in the mud behind her. "Elizabeth, please just hold on."

"For what?" She swung around suddenly, causing him to try to skid to a stop, only to slide forward and fall into the puddle-trodden mud. Elizabeth sighed, outreach a hand for Matthew to help him up, "... my husband is dead, Matthew. Your brother's dead... there's no reason for me to be here anymore." Matthew scraped off the hunks of soil from his uniform and flicked the globs to the ground.

"Elizabeth.." He sighed.

"You don't understand, Matthew! My life... it's been nothing but one hell after the other. I use to be completely faithful to God but could the devil really make anything worse!? What kind of lord would send me an angel just to snatch it away and rip it to pieces in front of my very own eyes!?"

"Elizabeth, please just listen."

"Listen to what Matthew?! You're brother was my hope. Every day he reminded me I was worth something, not just a tool to be used by any man on a lonely night like every other woman I've known. He made me feel worthy of his presence, of being in his life... and to think half of the time we spent together I spent disliking him..." She mumbled sorrowfully.

"How do you think I feel, Elizabeth!?" He yelled, calming himself and adjusting his glasses. "I can't begin to tell you the regret I've felt every time you bring him up. The regret of never spending enough time with him when we were kids. You know, he was a good brother. He looked after me, he fought my bullies, he always protected me no matter what I did or said." She stared at him as he gazed at her in sorrow. "So yes, Elizabeth. I do know how you feel. I love my brother. Dearly. And yes, I realize how little the possibility is that he could survive... but until I get a letter sent in the mail I will not lose hope. Every time Al would get into trouble, he would get himself out one way or the other. Don't lose hope Elizabeth." He gave a small smile towards her, walking up to her and opening his clenched palm into hers. Her ring. "... and for God's sake, don't listen to what the fucking colonel says."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

_ Nonclimatic chapter lmao... oh well, next one is much better I promise ^^  
_

**Translations**_Je ne peux pas __le croire = I cannot believe this!_  
était-ce à voix haute = did I just say that aloud?


	18. Bonnes années!

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

At the waking of every morning, it was the winter that greeted her first. The biting sting of the cold numbing a toe that had snuck out of her cover fortress. The goosebumps along her arms and the soar muscles of the horrid, lumpy cot. But this was where she stayed.

When she had come back to the tent, Alfred's ring pleasantly returned to her finger, she slumped into bed without even a glance towards Matthew. She watched the men outside through the crack of light between the canvas doors, the dying out of activities until she couldn't see a thing in the darkness. The lamp flickered on at Matthew's touch and the canvas illuminated in a golden hue, but she just blocked out the light with her covers, taking note of the bowl of gruel beside her. Matthew had been so nice to retrieve her ring, to let her rest alone, to get her a meal... but she didn't want to see him. As much as she had adjusted her eyes to the differences between the Jones brothers, just the slightest reminder of Alfred made her stomach lurch into a knot.

The next morning, it was New Years, and Matthew was missing for duty as usual when she awoke. Since the soldier was issued on patrol in the trenches before the sun rose every morning, it was an amazement he could stay awake to make every night to make sure she didn't need him for anything. He had the chivalry of his brother... that was for sure. But there would be no joining the men as an awkward background figure, no perusing through the camp looking for things to do or just enjoying the fresh air. For the "fresh" scent of soil, mist, and blood even grew a bore to her. Elizabeth was in mourning after all. Since she had nothing black to wear and no faith in the Lord, she had no other way to show her grievances other than to just lay in bed like death itself. Like her husband. Then of course those thoughts brought the onslaught of tears and watery cheeks, then the freezing, aching feeling of the tears chilling against her face. There was so much pity for herself it made her sick, to think she came so far from just being a useless meat sack from the to a well-respect aristocratic lady. And she was acting like this. She was still a woman in this age where a spouse meant life or death, success or bitter, ugly failure. Elizabeth had made her success on the backs of the Kirkland brother, and like every other good thing in her life, it had been swept out from under so she could smack her head on the bottom of the barrel.

"Elizabeth?" A calm whisper came from the cot beside her, her mind dripping back into consciousness. It was the third day of mourning. "Elizabeth... I'm worried about you." She didn't answer even with Matthew's voice soft and soaked in concern.

"Be gone.." she mumbled under her sheet, yet no footsteps sucked into the ground.

"Elizabeth, you haven't eaten for days, have you even had any water?"

"I said leave me!" She hissed.

"I'm not going to watch you mourn yourself to death! Alfred wouldn't want that!" At first she thought of screaming how would you know but gritted her teeth instead, reminding herself that Matthew was still Alfred's brother. There was a long drawn out silence before he finally spoke up again, "Please don't kill yourself, Elizabeth.. I'd be shattered if anything were to happen to you." At first, she humored the idea of Alfred's lips saying those words, the morbid memory crawling its way back into consciousness. Her hand touched her throat, remembering the sting of rope burn and the feeling of death.

"Jones, sir!" A sudden sound came from the entrance of the tent, she slipped upward to view the American soldier who had first brought her to the camp, his eyes anxious. Matthew nodded towards him, the soldier saluted in response. "sir... miss... you have to come see this."

"Why? What's going on?" Matthew blinked, standing up in caution.

"You just have to come see this!" She exchanged a look with Matthew before swinging the covers up and putting some combat boots on as the soldier sprinted towards the colonel's tent. She could hear the faint commotion a ways away and fretted that the time of a mob had finally come.

"Matthew, you don't think.."

"I don't know. But you need to stay here just in case." She flashed a sharp gaze towards Matthew. He swallowed and nodded. "Right. Not staying here. Got it."

When she hobbled out of the tent with Matthew, she took note at how weak she'd become with the lack of food in her body. So weak, in fact, that she almost tripped and planted her face in to the mud if not for Matthew's quick reflexes. When she was steadied again, she took it slower but still pressed hastily onwards towards the crowding men. Shouts and laughs sang into the stale air, the atmosphere horribly tense. Did I cause this!? she thought, trying to make out any blood or the screams of a certain Frenchman. But she heard none, in fact, of all things, she heard the crowd's noise fade down to just a barely audible whisper.

The clopping of hard-soled shoes against wood echoed into her ears as she pushed towards the crowd, a dark blue and miraculously unscathed colonel popping his head above the crowd. Standing on a stool, he coughed into his hand. "Soldiers of the La Cateau Fort and the trenches of Arilles. Lend me your ears." The men stared at him condescendingly. Even she couldn't help giving a sarcastic look towards the colonel. "U-uh yes. Well." He cleared his throat again, "As some of you have heard, I'm planning an attack against the German two weeks from no-"

"I heard it was two days from now!"

"You said it was today!"

"Aye, it was a month wasn't it!?"

Francis blinked nervously at the anxious crowd, throwing fists clenched with booze into the air. "U-uh n-no. I need time to prepare and all-"

"Wasn't that what Jones' suppose to do!?" A man shouted in the crowd.

"Go back to HQ," Another shouted, spurring on a chanting of men. Followed by hateful shouts of disdain and blood lust to Francis. The colonel tried to straighten himself but the verbal bullets hit him over and over again until he was back to a slump.

"I-I meant it was today... I did!" Francis stammered.

"Go back to HQ!"

"You don't belong here!"

Suddenly, the colonel was gently pushed off of the now mud-sunken stool. The crowd went dead silent. Matthew tried to help her, but she brushed him away, wobbling upon her clogs to try and get some balance. They all stared at her, their eyes hungrily awaiting for what she was about to say. As soon as she steadied herself, she gazed around the crowd of soldiers, then onto the horizon of the city and the trenches surrounding it. "Are you all proud of yourselves!?" She shouted, her voice cracking through the camp. "Do you all feel like men, disrespecting your commanding officer!?" The soldiers hummed in rageful chatter, a voice that could only belong to Marcus heightening above the rest.

"How 'bout you bend over and show a little skin for us, doll face?" Muffled laughter filled the crowd until she watched a bottle shatter against Marcus' head. Brody held the lip of the beer bottle, shooting daggers into Marcus' eyes.

"How 'bout you show some fucking respect."

"I'll show you some fucking respect you little fucking dwarf-" Behind Brody, Matthew had already made his way to his side, and, to her surprise, the American soldier that helped her from earlier.

"I think it'd be best you step it down a notch, pal." The soldier warned, eying Marcus who reluctantly quieted.

"Oy! You go on'n speak, Elizabeth!" Brody shouted, cupping a hand around his mouth. Her eyes fluttered, trying to concentrate on the words that were swirling around her head. But it wasn't just the words that shook unsteadily, it was stool beneath her, her breathing was shaky and her muscles were relax and yet the same time tense. As soon as they noticed she started swaying, Francis ran up and held her hand to balance her, she nodded to him with a soft, grateful smile. Gazing back up at the crowd, she continued.

"Right. Many of you know my husband, Alfred Jones. Some of you knew him better than I. He told me of the pride he held for each and every soldier he met, no matter their circumstances, nationality, or history. What matters now is getting out of this war alive. I haven't been in this war like you, I haven't been near it, so no, I don't know anything about the military nor anything about the suffering you've endured. Francis here, yes, I'll admit, I'm still not sure how he got his position," the crowd hummed with soft chuckles as she paused to process her thoughts, "but he's still your commanding officer. He still is obliged to take responsibility of your lives, to make sure you get home. Don't you care about your families, your loved ones? Well he cares about his men like they were his family, and he may not be Sanchez, but he still has a duty and one he still wishes to fulfill. His passion has kept you alive. And as much as my disdain for him matches yours... I trust him."

The soldiers mumbled and chattered to themselves in waves until they finally silenced to let her speak again. "I've been to Le Cateau; Germans and all. They are weak, they are desperate, and they will most likely surrender instantly. And if they don't... we have double their men. Because of my husband, I know how proud you all are of your rankings and of your responsibilities.. so I know I can count on you, _all _of you, to_ take back Le Cateau._" Fists thrust themselves into the air, a war cry singing out and shouts of hope thundering through the camp. Francis even joined them, pushing them onwards with their stroked egos. Such an atmosphere of hope rendered her incapable of feeling misfortunate or sorry for herself. The glory that once was banished from the mens' eyes was now raging with a burning flame. The men trusted her. They listened to her. She was the voice of the colonel who couldn't get the right words out in enough time. Elizabeth knew his thoughts were aligned with the desires of the soldiers, but his mouth was what got him into trouble. If she could act as a translator, the men would find her as a sign of impending glory. They would find her more than just a courtesan off the streets of London.

They would find her as a symbol of hope. Lying would no longer be necessary, the serpent with its fangs full of dishonest venom would be smothered, a proud phoenix rising from its ashes. Nothing could stop them if they had faith in leadership, if they had faith in the words that whispered into their ears. The cries of their comrades would no longer be the songs of the dying, but the shouts of victory.

And victory would not take long to achieve. After the speech, the men hastily gathered equipment and formed into the organized ranks they'd so easily forgotten. The memory wheel spinning finally, she watched as the US military became more and more like she had heard of. Weapons and artillery gathered ammunition, the medics packing supplies in the trucks while the cavalry mounted their horses. It took less than two hours to get a whole military camp active and ready for war, eyes locked onto Le Cateau. But even with the glory bells ringing in her ears, she couldn't help feeling a sickening feeling of betrayal. Ludwig and his brother had aided her, had had faith in her cause. They had listened to her pleas and without them, she might've not ever arrived at the US military camp. She might've never met Matthew or Brody, nor would she have found the will to live through the plumes of smoke clouding her vision of the present with the visions of the past. Though still convinced of Alfred's death, she found new hope of living with Matthew on that ranch in Montana and living the life Alfred had always wanted for her. And she would betray all the things they had given her... in this one instant. In this one head strong act of "hope". Yet even with the guilt kicking her in the stomach, she never cried out to them, she never tried to warn them, and she definitely did not try to stop the men from taking back their base. What has to happen, has to happen, and that was that.

It wasn't until the stars shined above-the first clear night she had seen since near Christmas-that the men were on the move. She, of course, was forced to stay behind, which she had no complaints with. Though, Elizabeth did find it very odd and very lonely to watch the soldiers march along the road, banners held high and the faint thundering of drums in the air, their backs disappearing into the forest. Once the drums were out of ear shot, she inhaled a crisp, clean breath of air. It wasn't long until faded blasts and commotion, fogged down by trees, illuminated the night. And ironically, at the strike of twelve, the commotion stopped. The air was dead. Stars twinkled and shined their light down upon her head as she yearned to know what had happened as she sit beside a burning fire. Men who could not walk or fight due to injuries stayed behind with her, along with a readied infantry. Most of them held cups of rum or wine around the fire, keeping to themselves and egging onto the lonely, brisk silence. She refused to go to sleep though. To close her eyes and see the faces of her past, to feel the warmth of loved ones who no longer held her close. She refused to dream of days long forgotten and days of few, because there was no point. What mattered now was here and now, and that grew adjacent to the soft whistle and howls into the night. They were faint, but as they grew closer she could make out into the dark, moon-lit pastures below the forest, the black figures of the cavalry sprinting towards them, their fists thrusting into the air. Those who could, stood up from the fire, answering the cavalry soldiers' calls of victory with hollers of their own. The galloping of the horses softened until the men jogged towards them, weapons missing from their uniform. "What is the news, soldier?" One of the injured prodded. But the blue-coated soldier just smiled wide, the whiskers of his beard stretching cheek bone to cheek bone.

"A victory. A thorough victory to the Allies."

"How many did we lose?" Elizabeth suddenly found herself asking.

"One. Got trampled by a German horse." Of all the men that held ranks in the US camp, only one lost his life. She knew it was incredible odds, but even so, the death of one unnerved her. Elizabeth heard the faint laughter growing into booming mirth as the Frenchman threw his arms into the air and screamed, "_Bonnes années!"_

"May this victory of this day bring on success of the new year." An injured soldier said through grinned teeth. Even though the man was not in the least bit French, he screamed out "Bonnes années!" Then one of the infantry soldiers, then another cavalry. Soon, she herself was chanting out the French words.

"Bonnes années!"

oOo

She found that the year did bring victory to the allies. Her stay in the camp became like a ranking amongst the men, and even though it began as front lines, it was pushed into one of the safest zones of the war. The Allies took North France by storm and pushed the Germans back to their border until it was certain the Keisor's days were numbered.

When they had taken Le Cateau, the town through them a celebration full of booze and women. A proper New Years feast awaiting them in the dining hall and a miraculous speech given by, of all people, Francis, to begin the night of celebration. But it was the word of surrender that made her happy. Barely any German troops in Le Cateau were killed, and those who were sounded like the same men who tried to kill her earlier. Ludwig and the general were taken to a POW camp on the outskirts of Paris, a US POW camp. They would be treated with respect there, she knew. It was a joyous day for the soldiers of Le Cateau and the party was unbelievable. Men ate until their buckles snapped and the men who's faces wore stone frowns now cracked smiles at each other.

Soldiers came and went, Brody was issued into another base through March and came back around August. Francis got better at holding his ground when the soldiers had had enough of him, and when he couldn't, she would, and they'd step down immediately. Victory after victory aligned the end of the war until finally, on November 9th, a messenger from HQ rode up to the gate with news of the abdication of the Keisor.

On November 11th, the bell wrung. It blasted its beautiful melody into the air, waking her and illuminating the sounds of cheering and crying. The soldiers clasped their arms around each other, celebrated, and provided so much booze that every single man could kill themselves of alcohol poisoning if they wanted to with no shortage of alcohol. This celebration put the New Years to shame. And she couldn't have had a bigger smile on her face.

The war was over.

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_To Be Continued..._

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**Translations**

Bonnes années! = happy new year!


	19. Hunk of Iron

_Pairing: Alec Kirkland / Elizabeth Kirkland, Alfred Jones / Elizabeth Kirkland_

_Summary: AU Ireland WW1. Elizabeth, an intelligent, young, poor, and very much stranded woman is saved by a man who is all but terrifying. But when she meets a charming American soldier, she is forced to question herself on who she truly loves._

_Warning: Contains abuse, foul language, and rape._

* * *

The bell jingled its happy tune as she walked in, the familiar smell of sterile items wafting into her nose. With the aging sun beaming in through the windows, the dust in the air speckling her vision, the shop was as quaint as quaint could be. Hard wood floors, viles of drugs lining the cabinets, and a whole case of wine to the left. The engravings along the base boards and the counter were all hand-carved by the owner himself, a trait she greatly admired. "Elizabeth!" A jolly voice bellowed out from behind the pharmacy curtain, bathed in wool clothing. The man grinned widely, his rosy cheeks stretching ear to ear while his weary eyes crinkled in delight. "What brings you to the shop this evening?"

"Just some cold medicine, Mr. Dawson." She smiled, observing him correct his glasses.

"Margaret, dear, come look who it is!"

"Who is it?"

"Ms. Jones, and didn't I tell you to come and look for yourself?" He chuckled heartily, the old, plump woman pushing her way through the curtain.

"Ah! So it is. You here for Matthew's medicine?" Mrs. Dawson smiled, her aged face folding its wrinkles together.

"Yes, ma'am." She politely nodded, the old woman rummaging through the medicine cabinets, looking through the viles and focusing her eyes on each label.

"Is Matthew doin' any better?" Mr. Dawson lowered his voice. She just smiled wider.

"Very much so. Whatever you're giving him seems to be working."

"What a bad time to come down with a cold, harvest bein' so soon.."

She scoffed, "Well I suppose that's what he gets for stayin' out in the rain all evening." Mr. Dawson laughed loudly, his wife making her way to the counter and handing her a green-tinted vile full of liquid. Elizabeth, took the vile and began rummaging through her change purse before Mrs. Dawson cut in.

"Oh no, no, that won't be necessary, deary. You've already helped us so much with tutoring Robbie, this one's on the house."

"Oh, no I couldn't!"

"It's fine. It's not like we're doing too poorly in the shop." She glanced at them both and then finally sighed with a grin.

"You are so sweet. Thank you." Creaking across the floor, she pushed open the door, only pausing to wave her goodbyes before exiting to the right towards the hitching post. Her hand gently pressing against the dapple mare's fur she patted it a few times, slipped the vile into the saddle bag and swung herself up onto the mare's back. There were shouts of children playing in the road, distracting her for an instant. Men and women of all ages scurried along the streets and on the sidewalks, children chasing dogs, and men trotting horses along the paths. So whimsical, the scene of the little Montana town bathed in a fiery orange. The church bell echoed into the air and city hall emptied with its suited visitors, all tipping their hats goodbye to each other. She inhaled a strong breath of humidity, turned, and dug a heel softly into the horse's flank.

The houses in Montana were spread far apart, this she had come to realize very quickly. There was only this little town in the middle of nowhere and the roads only led to the different houses, hers, for instance, was five paths down. Vehicles were not seen very often here, mostly it was horses that were used when it came to transportation, which only caused her little to no skill in riding to grow quite rapidly.

Galloping down the gravel road, the little cottage hidden by a massive oak tree came into view. The wooden logs stacked on top of one another, the patched roof and the blackberry bushes out front greeted her. She didn't even count the cows that herded around the pastures to both sides of her as something abnormally beautiful because they had become so common in her eyes. As she steered the horse towards the barn, her eyes sternly surveyed the scene of a blonde-haired man galloping in a circle, a silver gelding nickering in response to the dog that ran beneath him. "Matthew!" She shouted, the man's face instantly snapping towards her's. "Are you mental!? What are you doing out of bed."

"Right, sorry Ms. Jones, just having a bit of fun, that's all!" Instantly he pulled on the bronco's reins forcing him to slow to a stop as he unmounted. The dog circled around his heals, ears perked up to Matthew.

"Manuel. Did you let him do this?" She inquired to the Mexican man leading Matthew's horse back into the barn. "I told you to keep him in bed."

"Lo siento, Ms. Jones. He said he wanted some fresh air, couldn't get him off the horse once I found 'em." Sighing, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and then handed the vile to Matthew.

"I picked up some medicine from the pharmacy in town, seeing as the last bottle _mysteriously disappeared..._" She eyed him, he gulped.

"It's disgusting."

"It's necessary." Shooing him inside with her hands, she gave the mare to Manuel who led the two horses towards the barn. "Go on, get inside. It's getting late out and I have dinner to fix."

"I think you'd be more accepting of my little outing if you knew that I shot a rabbit today when you were gone!"

"_A whole rabbit?_" She smirked sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm no cowboy! That's good for me! And what did you catch, Miss Pocahontas?"

"Your medicine. Drink. Now." She growled, handing Matthew a cup full of water, as she tied on an apron. Out the window, the sun seemed to glow with a goldenrod hue, making the yellow grass shimmer with orange and red. Noticing the unskinned rabbit on the counter, she took one of the knives in the knife brick and began cutting away the fur, a trick Manuel had taught her the first week arriving at the little ranch. Cutting up the meat and carving out the bone, she poured into a kettle full of cabbage, carrots, and beans before placing it over the fire in the living room. Matthew relaxed on the chair in front of the fire, the vile still full and in his hand. "Matthew..."

"I'm drinking, I'm drinking!" He grumbled, taking a solid gulp of the liquid and then washing it down with a cup of ginger ale. "You know, if you aren't too careful, Elizabeth, you'll actually sound more like a housewife than a veteran." She just replied with a scornful smile as Matthew stretched himself across the chair. "I saw you riding that horse in today."

"Yeah?" She said as she churned the stew slowly.

"You look very proper up on that horse. Great posture. Hell, I think you may even be better than me!"

"Oh don't be ridiculous."

"There is no ridiculousness found, Ms. Jones. You are a proper horseman-woman... thing."

"Are you calling me a thing?"

"A _proper _thing."

"I'm honored." Matthew twitched a brow in amusement. Roosting the lid atop the kettle, she sat onto the sofa opposite of Matthew, feeling the warm glow of the fire caress her skin. But it wasn't until the kettle started whistling that she noticed Matthew's face dimming down into a frown, a faraway look in his eye. Quickly jumping to get the kettle, wrapping her hand up in a mitt, she brought the kettle to the kitchen, pouring a bowl for each of them. Handing the bowl to Matthew, he smiled graciously but then returned to his state of melancholy. This time, it wouldn't go unnoticed. "Mathew?"

His face shook into consciousness, focusing towards her, "Hm?"

"Is everything alright?" Matthew groaned and rubbed his fingers on his brow, pushing his glasses up, "what's wrong..."

"Aghhh nothing. Just..." He hesitated, trying to distract his eyes to the fire but knowing an answer was inevitable. "... a government official came by this morning when you were riding Abril out near the western pasture." Her eyes narrowed.

"Why didn't you let me know of this?"

"He seemed like he meant business... Elizabeth.. you do realize your illegally in the United States. Right?"

"Of course I know that. I mean... I wasn't really thinking about it... until now..." she kneaded her bottom lip and looked up. "Was he really here to take me away."

"He referred to you as a 'fugitive'."

"Well now he's just being over dramatic." She muttered bitterly, "I haven't done anything wrong. I've broken no laws, in fact, I've helped around town."

"Apparently that's not in the eyes of the government."

"Well what do I need to do to be seen in a legal manor?"

"There's a number of options, and by number I mean two." Matthew raised his fingers to count them out, "One... you could apply to be a US citizen, take the test, and become a legal American. Or two... you could marry someone." She unconsciously rubbed the iron nut against her finger.

"Well it's not like I don't have many suitors in town grovelling to take my hand."

"Do I hear an ego forming?"

"When a man falls over his own dog to toss me a wedding ring, I would more say it's realistic."

"Who falls over their own dog?"

"John. Blacksmith."

"Makes sense." She made a sound of agreement and then took a bite of the stew, swishing it around in her mouth, savoring the taste. A whistle came from the opposite side of the room and she looked up.

"Damn. Elizabeth, it's not just riding you've gotten better in... this stew is amazing!"

"I've been cooking for you for a year. Are you saying that I wasn't 'amazing' before?"

"U-uh no! No, you were very good before. This is just extraordinarily exquisite! May I have seconds?"

"You only caught one rabbit today remember?"

"Right... "He looked towards the curtained windows. "I bet Manuel and the stable hands have a nice deer that they're chowing down on right now."

"Are you actually thinking of stealing our helper's food!?"

"I was jesting the thought." He stated defensively. Taking a moment of silence to scrape the bowls clean, she took his, and made her way back to the kitchen to wash them. As she scrubbed she heard his mumbling voice rising to an audible volume. "Um... another thought... I've been toying with lately-and hear me out..."

"Yes?" She asked, her eyes concentrated on the dishes.

"Well... why don't we just get married." The dish dropped with a thud in the sink as she spun around to look at him.

"Are you completely mental? Has your cold finally reached your head!?"

"It's not exactly a bad idea, Elizabeth.. I mean. I know you're still in mourning, but it's been two years.."

"It takes ten. Or a lifetime. That's good too."

"Not to the government. Besides, Alfred would want you to be an American citizen."

"Oh don't you pull the 'what would Alfred do' card on me. We're not even attracted to each other!"

"Elizabeth, you are a sister to me, strictly that, as I am a brother to you. That's why I'm saying this; why don't we get married? It would keep you in the US and honestly, I'm not the worst option. Nothing would change... we'd just have the label of wife and husband. It would be completely platonic."

"I feel incestuous."

"Elizabeth..." Closing her eyes she threw her hands up.

"Stop! Quiet for a moment... I just need to think about this." Pressing her fingers to her temple, she attempted rubbing away the migraine forming. Her ears ringing loudly in dead silence. "And... what would you propose we do for this marriage?"

"No ceremony. We'd just run down to the court house and grant ourselves a certificate."

"How curt."

"Would you prefer a romantic wedding and getaway?"

"No. I don't want this in general. Marriage means something to me, Matthew, I must love some one to marry them."

"Don't you love me?"

"I love you in a different sense..."

"It's still love though." He sighed and stood up, facing her. "It's just to keep you in the US, to keep you from being deported. Simple as that. Black and white. No strings attached. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do..." Rolling her lips together she closed her eyes and released a stress-filled breath. "Alright." She looked up and repeated. "Alright. We can go down to the courthouse tomorrow." Elizabeth tried to think back two yeas ago, the feeling of getting married... and then married again. Twice in one year and now getting married a third time two years later. However, this marriage ring would be kept in her side table drawer, never replacing the wing nut on her finger. Never replacing the little reminder of past happiness she still had left.

Not that she wasn't happy on the Jones ranch. Manuel and the stable hands taught her basic hunting, riding, and ranching skills. Matthew taught her the system of each day and how to manage the financial difficulties of the ranch. The ranch itself had become a third home to her and one that was full of a family that would give everything for her happiness. It seemed too good to be true, so much so that at night, she'd pray to the God she had finally restored faith in to keep away the evil that plagues her. To not let her paradise be vanquished by reality. Even when life tried to throw immigration laws at her, tried to send her back to hell, Matthew would keep her safe. Just like his brother did.

Suddenly, the sound of a motor revved up the driveway, the crackling of gravel neath its tires echoing into the now purple and red sky. She gazed at Matthew frantically, her body aligning with the door, away from any windows. "Stay out of sight." He warned. "The official might've mentioned he'd stop by again..." Grabbing his gun just in case, a revolver with five bullets loaded into the cylinder, he backed towards the windows, pulling the curtains back and peering out. She could hear the vehicle roll up a few yards in front of the house and pull to a stop, but didn't turn off the engine. Then the vehicle door creaked open, a soft clapping as it shut followed. Elizabeth crept towards the lamp on the side table of the couch, smothering it and then creeping over to the fireplace to smother that as well until Matthew whispered. "Elizabeth." Her eyes perked up towards him, misted with faint fear. "I don't think we'll need that wedding..." She furrowed her brow, trying to untangle his words.

Her heart stopped.

The world froze, and her thoughts went by too quick to read, she couldn't even make out Matthew's lips as they moved. Everything went blank. Elizabeth didn't even realize that she had moved let alone how quickly the front porch appeared before. But for the first time, it wasn't the beautiful Montana setting with the golden fields and the purple and blue mountain. It wasn't the horses in the barn or the cows grazing in the field. It wasn't even the fact she hadn't seen a vehicle in six months.

There was a uniformed man's back, his shoulders broad as he rummaged through the back seat of the vehicle. Her breath was so fast, her heart beating right out of her chest. Spots began to appear around her eyes as she struggled to stay conscious until Matthew sounded the creaking of the door, snapping her back into reality. And the man heard the door too, because he swung right around, adjusted his glasses, and smiled.

She managed to walk a few steps forward, her knees not seeming to bend, legs feeble as a newborn foal. He walked forward as well, his boots crunching on the gravel, eyes locked on her until he was ten feet away.

"Elizabeth." Alfred chuckled softly. She couldn't breath. That voice, a voice she hadn't heard in two years, a voice that was the source of all nights of fears and joys. The spots tried to force themselves into her mind, tried to wake her up from this dream. Of course it was a dream, Alfred was dead after all. Even Matthew had come to accept the inevitable. So why, of all the cruel things God would put her through, why would He send her an angel to meet her in her dreams? Why would Alfred be standing here, like it was reality, like she could just reach out... and touch him. Tears couldn't even work their way up, for she was as frozen as a statue, awaiting the call that would break her free. God would she yearn to hear that voice again. The soldiers coughed a laugh. "Well... I can't believe you're actually here... at my ranch." His eyes glimmered like the ocean, smile so soft and genuine. "I'm think it's too good to be true..." _Talk damn you, _she screamed to herself. But her lips would not budge. She couldn't even smile, she couldn't make any expression, in fact, the expression she wore looked almost... angry. Or at least that's how he took it. Alfred's smile died down as he took a deep breath in. "I... I'm sorry I took so long. But I told you I'd return to you. I told you, I would never leave you. Never. Even if it took two years to get here..." Closing his eyes he sighed.

"Please... say something, Elizabeth. My thoughts are thinking the worst of your silence... please convince them otherwise." _Speak.__ Of all the times you could be useless you have to be useless now!? _She inwardly screamed at herself. But silence was all that filled the air, that, and the chirping of insects and fowl. Alfred dropped his head. "... I see. I was gone too long wasn't I? Your silence is all the words I need..." He hesitated, but then walked forward, "... I'll... just grab a few things...-Oof!" Her arms wrapped so tightly around him she could feel his ribs curving inwards. She could feel his heart pounding against her ear, his inhale of oxygen... the smell. Oh god, the smell of Alfred was just _exhilarating. _The last time she hugged someone like this, it had been Matthew, and she had been so horribly rejected it scarred her in believe what was real and what was not. But the hug he gave her was the most realistic thing she'd ever felt. The tight, warm arms holding her close, the way he picked her up and kissed her passionately, gently letting her touch the ground again. But she didn't want to end the kiss. She was so afraid that any moment, she would wake up. She would wake up and Alfred wouldn't be there. That this really was all a lie that was conjured up to torture her. And like some sleeping beauty, the kiss broke the spell.

When she finally released, she buried her face in his chest, tears streaming down her face. "I-I thought you were dead..." she sobbed, the cloth rubbing against her cheek. He just continued holding her close, his lips grazing her hair.

"No you didn't. You're still wearing that hunk of iron I gave you." His voice was cracking with tears as well. She could feel the cloth growing hot beneath her cheek and she was unsure if it was him or her that grew fiery with emotion. But all of that was unapparent, all that mattered in this world so full of disaster and evil, and so full of love and happiness... was them. He was here. _Really _here. This was no dream, no hallucination, no wish. _Alfred _was holding her with _his _arms. It was _his _heat she felt and it was _his_ voice that was her antidote.

And that stupid little hunk of iron on her finger, that piece of metal that meant enough to keep for two whole years through a war and all... seemed meaningless. It just seemed like what it was-a hunk of metal.

Cause two years with that hunk of iron was nothing compared to a lifetime with Alfred F. Jones.

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_THE END  
_

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_Oh my god it's actually finished. A year's worth of writing guys! I'm so thankful for all my readers who got me through this with their lovely reviews and I hope the ending was to your satisfaction! Love you all! _

_As far as my fanfiction writing goes, I will be working on The Prince of Masyaf for a while and maybe will be making an epilogue for Roses of Picardy. Stay awesome!_


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